


Breathe Me

by dance_tilyouredead



Category: The 100
Genre: 2x16, Angst, Enough sex to make me question my rating every chapter, F/F, Fluff, It's a love story dammit, Post Season 2, Shh no talking, The Mighty Heda: Queer teen disaster., and, body talk only okay?, still a love story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_tilyouredead/pseuds/dance_tilyouredead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She’s never felt this before. Except. She thinks of green eyes set in dark kohl shadows and she knows. She felt naked then too."</p><p>Or, Clarke wanders off to be alone. But then Lexa's right there and she's the only one Clarke can bear to hold on to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And The Worst Part Is There's No One Else To Blame

The trees talk to her as she walks from the ark. They whisper and she feels calmed. 

//

Three days from the drop ship she finds a pool. Only meters across but deep and clear, grasses and water-flowers growing thick all around but for a sandy shore on the narrowest edge. The field with its watery heart is at the base of a cliff, the rocks warm with sun. Clarke drops her pack, tent and supplies and scouts the field and surrounding trees in sweeping circles. There’s a cave only a stumble away. 

The forest whispers and Clarke breathes deep in the sound.

The wounds she bears are bathed in shivering leaves and she feels that maybe someday there could be scars crisscrossing her heart instead of open lacerations. 

//

The cave is more divot in the rock than cavern but there is space enough for Clarke to lay out a bed of salvaged canvas. She piles rocks across the entrance until there’s just enough space to squeeze through, and secures a stretch of parachute across the gap. The reflective orange she douses in mud not bothered when she is covered in muck herself. It takes hours of hard labor and she’s shaking with exhaustion and hunger before she’s done. 

It feels like living. No matter how she might wish it otherwise. 

The temperature is dropping and there’s insects awake in the trees. Clarke peels off her gloves, her coat, shirt, everything until she’s naked and shivering beside the pool staring into clear water. Her reflection is highlighted bloody by sunset. She opens her mouth to say something to her, the girl floating in weeds smeared with mud. She opens her mouth to scream at her but Clarke’s jaw snaps shut. The woods and insects scream enough. The children might have screamed.

 

She cries.

//

She had thought the water would be peaceful. Clarke imagined being submerged as akin to floating in the vacuum of space. No air, no sound, no life. But she opens her eyes and looks up to the surface, legs folded under her and knees pressed into sand. She’s inches from the air but could stand if she needed. There’s sounds all around her, bubbling life somehow manipulating her drowned ear drums. She bathes in the sound as she scrubs mud from her body, rubbing sand into her skin till it tingles.

When she breaks the surface her lungs fill without permission and she almost laughs at the relief. But no sound reaches her lips. The tree’s song, the insect’s scream, the crackling undergrowth is symphony enough and she lets herself sink again into the water, holding her breath to feel it burn.

Clarke walks from the pool curious to feel evening air on her skin. It’s been so long since she was naked. She thinks how she may not have been quite this naked in earth’s atmosphere at all. Not with a mind to enjoy it. Any baths had been rushed and with water from a stream. A dozen other girls staring resolutely at the ground, or at the trees keeping watch. Clarke looks up at the sky, first stars appearing in the pink, and doesn’t mind feeling this bare. She feels animal, no expectation, no wants only needs. She’s never felt this before.

Except.

She thinks of green eyes set in dark kohl shadows and knows. She felt naked then too. Eyes filled with promises not demands.

Clarke shivers only half from the cool air and collects her clothes from where she dropped them, feels every item under her coat caked in grime. The coat and gloves she rinses and lays out on the rocks to dry but her other clothes she drowns, sinking them under a stone. 

//

The cave turns out to be shelter enough. With effort and a few singed fingers the flint sparks a fire. The third time it lights Clarke keeps from smothering the flicker flame long enough to build up heat and light. Warm and dry she considers remaining naked but the night cold settles in and she knows that won’t work. 

Wind in the trees sings Clarke into nightmares and she doesn’t mind.

 

She dreams of Dante in the mountain, blood draining from his heart as he walks through a classroom of children.

‘A, B, C,’ the class recites.

‘Very good,’ the President praises them. ‘And what does C stand for?’

The children turn to her. She’s wearing her soft sleep clothes. Familiar worn fabric she hasn’t felt since before she was locked in solitary. Long before the fall.

‘Clarke,’ the children say. ‘C is for Clarke.’

‘Very good,’ the teacher claps. ‘Now who’s ready for sleep?’

Fear floods her. ‘No,’ she yells but the cry is a whisper.

The children all lay their heads down on their desks but for one little boy who sits up straight in his chair. The boy sings without melody. ‘Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep.’ He has a sweet familiar voice. A young Wells. Younger than the teenager Clarke first met during her Clinical practice. ‘If I die before I wake.’ Wells looks at her calmly, skin blistering around his eyes. ‘Bless me Lord my soul to take.’

None of the children scream. 

//

When she plunges into her pool after dawn the water doesn’t absolve her. The song of filtering air and life beneath the surface is soothing though and she allows herself the peace of it. 

She listens. A nuclear war couldn't destroy this life. Clarke heals.

She leaves herself in the water’s embrace and care, imagines this might be how her father felt the moments before his lungs collapsed. 

 

She hears water song, she heals.

// 

On the third day something like a rabbit springs her trap and she resists the urge to tear into its soft belly with her teeth. She shreds the fur and skin off in chunks, gagging but getting it done. She burns half the meat to charcoal but still it’s stringy and rich and she knows her body is glad for the protein. 

After, she sinks in her pool, knees in the sand and thanks the earth for Her gifts.

//

Is a week long enough? Is she healed? The grass whisper no.

She cries. She cries.

// 

Her trap remains empty more days than it springs but Clarke hasn’t the skill or the knowledge to know why. Scavenged from the drop ship she’d guessed how to set it and can only hope for the best. She forages while waiting. 

Root vegetables and tubers are the luckiest find, sprouting close to the creek and not far from her shelter. There’s berries as well in the surrounding woods and a few bitter leaves Clarke remembers from before. There had been more skilled hands than hers among The Hundred. A doctor’s trade was superfluous for basic survival, and she found herself lacking. 

*Those who can’t do* she thinks with a wry smile digging hands through the dirt. No wonder she fell into leadership. A bird snickers his agreement and she looks up at the crow to smile in thanks. The bird takes flight, wind through the trees swallowing his sounds. 

//

Can a month help her forget? 

 

Clarke wonders when winter will come. It’s cooler now but there’s no real edge to it. Her fire is enough to keep warm at night, the pool chilling her deep but with no real danger to the cold. 

She survives. She dreams. 

She remembers Jasper asking her ‘Why?’. 

‘You would have done it,’ she says but knows it’s a lie. So few, she knows could. 

Lexa. 

Clarke shies away from the name but her subconscious does not and she dreams of a sun-lit tent and a kiss. And a night filled with heartbreak.

‘Your commander made a choice,’ Clarke had said.

‘What you would have done,’ Lexa says, eyes filled with grief. 

Clarke can see her now as she couldn't on that night. A stuttered breath pulled Lexa’s lips, as she turned with her army to leave. 

As Clarke would have done.

//

Clarke still can't swim. But she strips down and she wades into her pool, deeper each day until slipping beneath the surface is easy as falling. Her toes sink into sand and she’s floating again, only breaking the surface once her lungs burn their worst. She enjoys a knifes edge, feeling the water hold her close as she ponders her choice. 

The bubbles laugh at her and she knows that they're right. Of course there’s no choice. She bears others’ grief so that they don’t have to. But it’s a game that she plays, of deceiving herself. She’s never been good at it, thinking past what is real, what is fact. 

She comes up for a breath and to check where she is, that the trees haven't left her. 

She listens, she heals.

 

She slips under again and thinks about staying. Thinks how easy it would be. The human body so quick to betray itself in the face of water. An irony considering the blue planet they inhabit. As quick as 20 seconds from the moment she loses conscious control. If she just waits. The choice would be taken out of her hands. And she is so very tired of making choices.

 

She listens. She waits. 

 

She doesn't know how long she's under the water. Minutes maybe. Her lung capacity greater than before, like she's been practicing. And maybe she has been. 

She sinks lower with the last air leaving her mouth and she stares up to the sky. Her eys close when her back hits the sand and she thinks how soft it feels. Light plays against her eyelids and bubbles play past her ears. 

Not long now, she knows and wonders when she decided to stay. 

 

A crashing sound pulls at her dimming consciousness but she resists the urge to open her eyes. Her lungs are clawing and she finally gasps, water tearing through her lips and down her wind pipe. Burning hot as the arms now wrapped around her chest. Warm and firm and familiar. 

 

The air strikes her face and she gasps splutters choking on the fluid already in her lungs and her gut. Strong arms drag her up the sand and onto the grass, release her to slap hard at her back as she retches water and berries and bile, her body purging. 

Clarke lies face down until the last convulsion clears her throat. The burn remains but she breathes freely and knows the air is sweet to spite her. She made a choice. The wrong choice. And the puckered scars on her heart tear open again.

The hands that pulled her from the water remain warm on her back and Clarke wonders without concern who they belong to. Soft hands, small for the strength of them. Octavia, Clarke thinks but turns onto her back to find another. 

 

Lexa’s hands retreat from Clarke's skin but her gaze remains. Clarke reads the expression, her eyes too easily. Those eyes that promised and gave and calmed, now demand and plead and question, *why*. 

Clarke shakes her head and looks away. Lexa stands. The little clothing she wears is soaked to dripping and she looks small without her armour but no less strong. She turns and stalks back into the trees. The trees, Clarke realises that must have been hiding her for some time. 

Clarke stumbles to her feet not caring about how bare she is. She stares into the trees without speaking. willing Lexa to return, to show Clarke she’s real and not a hallucination born of loneliness. Of grief. 

Lexa does return, crushing underbrush in her annoyance and making more noise than she may have made in her entire life. Clarke doesn't smile but she thinks she could. Lexa stalks past her, hair dripping into fresh dry clothes to deposit a pack of supplies and a belt of weapons in Clarke's shelter. She turns to Clarke with a look which dares her to object. When Clarke doesn't Lexa busies herself stretching her wet clothes across sun soaked rocks.

Clarke dresses herself, suddenly feeling cold. 

//

When they sit together in the sun soon after Clarke listens to the woods and she knows Lexa listens with her. 

She listens and breathes and heals. 

She listens and breathes and heals.


	2. Yeah I Think that I Might Break

Three weeks. It takes three weeks of diplomacy and ego-soothing and blunt-force negotiation before Lexa can leave Polis. She knows of what happened inside The Mountain, had let her people believe she’d know all along. Lexa’s betrayal would not sit well with her people regardless of the hundreds she saved. Regardless of the threat to Clarke’s life, the sniper set to spill her life-blood should Lexa have refused. So her people believe that the battle was won in honour.

After three weeks Lexa returns to the woods, a sabbatical granted in good faith by the Twelve Clans and her own Queen. Indra remains in her stead. Her general can maintain their peace. For now Lexa is not Heda she is only herself. She rides alone, without armour in civillian clothes, and can finally breathe.

//

Lexa’s scouts meet her a half day’s walk from Clarke’s oasis. They need no instruction as she shoulders her bag and hands them Brooklyn’s reigns. She asks after Clarke’s continued health and they confirm that Sky Prisa is well, if a little underfed. Her mount nudges her shoulder and she scratches his flank with affection thinking on the title her people have chosen for Clarke. Sky Prisa - a golden haired Princess caught alone in the woods.

A few hours of walking brings Lexa in sight of sun-baked cliffs. Clarke has chosen her position well. The time she spent among Trikru may have instilled some skills after all, if less visibly in Clarke than in Octavia. Clarke is sheltered and safe here, or as safe as she could be when so new to the ground.

Soon, she can see Clarke through a grove of trees. She looks much as she did the night Lexa last saw her. Her skin is still fair, unmarred by fresh scarring, and Lexa feels relieved. Three weeks was too long and reports are not the same as seeing Clarke alive and still strong. Lexa needed this, needed to see for herself.

 

She is aware that weakness and need are closely aligned.

 

Lexa retreats from the clearing, not here to force Clarke away or to encroach on her grief. She’s here to keep watch.

Lexa knows Clarke is not hers, that she has no claim on her. Clarke had once said _not yet_ and since The Mountain Lexa is sure that’s now _not ever_. But while Clarke is in TriKru territory Lexa will keep her safe, whether Clarke likes it or not.

  
Lexa picks a sturdy oak and clambers up to build herself a shelter high in the branches, a sling of bedding tied up with rope in the leaves. She can see into the field without being seen and though she knows Clarke came here to wander alone, Lexa does not see the trespass. She has no urge to spy, only to safeguard, and Clarke needn’t ever know she was here.

//

  
Under the midday sun Clarke’s new home is beautiful and Lexa wonders if safety had little to do with Clarke's choice after all. The pool is clear and deep, and there’s a peace to the field that Lexa has rarely seen. Clarke appears calmed as she stares through the woods - through her guardian in the trees.

Lexa watches over Clarke as she hunts for berries and roots through the afternoon. She observes all her choices, glad to see nothing harmful in the mix. When Clarke is done Lexa forages for food of her own, not straying far from Skai Prisa.

  
Soon, the sun sinks and Clarke stokes a fire for warmth. Lexa has furs enough where she hangs and when Clarke retreats to her shelter Lexa falls into a sleep that is deep enough for dreams.

//

If her sleep is fearful Lexa doesn't remember it.

 

She’s shaken awake by a yell. Clarke is calling out and Lexa drops from her branches with a blade in her hand. She sprints through the trees low and quiet, her heart full of tremors. Clarke’s terrified cry echoes in her chest the whole way.

She stops short of the cave’s entry. The night is quiet again, the calm before dawn, and Clarke is talking in low sleepy murmurs. Lexa peaks past the canvas to see Clarke asleep, her frown deep as she dreams. There are tears wetting her cheeks.

  
Lexa wants to comfort her.

She watches her dream.

 

After too many breaths Lexa stows away her knife, walks back through the trees, and climbs back up to her perch. Before she can settle Clarke emerges, rushing from her cave to the pool's edge. First light of dawn clears the grey, bright enough to see Clarke tearing off clothing and dropping it behind her til she’s naked as a babe. Lexa’s muscles strain where she's perched on a branch but she doesn't move as Clarke’s eyes seem to meet hers. She sees Clarke breathe in deep and Lexa echoes the breath. Clarke steps back into the water, takes another step then another until she’s waist deep in the pool. She collapses, disappearing into water, turned black in the predawn.

Lexa almost calls out Clarke’s name as she unlocks her  muscles and jumps again from the tree. She runs, braces herself to dive into cold dark water in search of the Skai Prisa. She stands on the waters edge as dawn breaks and lights up the water. Blonde hair is swirling just beneath the surface and Lexa almost laughs. Relief warms her over just looking on this face. Clarke's expression is scrunched and distorted by ripples as she holds her breath to scrub hard at her skin.

She's safe.

Lexa retraces her steps into the trees and up onto her branch. The ninety seconds it takes for Clarke to surface in a spluttering surge are enough for Lexa to return to her bed and to settle in her furs.

Lexa can still see into the clearing without being seen, except now she understands her trespass.

//

Through the day they forage side by side, a forest between them. And when Clarke’s peculiar Skaikru trap snags a _trigoufa_ in its jaws Lexa leaves with her bow to find some fresh meat for herself. Whatever Clarke will have, Lexa will have.

//

Clarke doesn’t always cry out in the night but whenever she does Lexa runs down to check she is safe.  Clarke is haunted by death and it breaks Lexa's heart to see it. She worries over the space in her heart left by Costia and hopes that Clarke's healing comes at a cost smaller than her own.

 

 

After each restless night Clarke sinks into the water, submerged it seems until her lungs are ready to burst. Lexa counts out the seconds that are longer each time.

The night Clarke shouts out a warning to Octavia. 112 seconds.  
A night Clarke curses and cries. 116.

  
After Clarke murmurs Lexa’s name with a sigh. 120.

  
On the mornings Clarke walks out on the grass with her naked skin shining, Lexa tries not to look. But Clarke stands like a gift to the sun and the sky that she fell from and she can't help but accept. 

//

  
After three quiet nights Clarke wades into her pool just for fun. Lexa feels warm and content as she watches, letting a leg swing free from her hammock and chewing through a handful of berries. Clarke drifts in deeper until she’s submerged to the neck, keeping balance with slow arms. She looks to the trees before slipping beneath the surface and Lexa starts to counts out the seconds.

There’s a splash at 130 seconds and Lexa smiles as Clarke breaks the surface. She's reached a new record and still wades only high enough to breathe. The blonde head bobs on the surface for a moment before slipping under once more. Lexa shakes her head and starts counting again, absorbed by the game.

  
At 136 seconds bubbles emerge but Clarke does not.

At 138 seconds Lexa slips to the ground.

140\. Lexa's on the edge of the tree line, heart beating too fast.

141.

No.

Clarke?

There’s no more sound. No more bubbles.

  
Lexa doesn’t think of consequences when she dives into the water, wraps her arms round Clarke’s middle and hauls her upwards. She drags Clarke’s dead weight repeating _no_  and _please_  and _not now_. Clarke splutters, gagging water and more out onto the ground. Lexa thumps Clarke’s back holding an arm to steady her - to steady herself.

Lexa is shaking and scared and sad and angry all at once. Thinking _how could you do this?_ Clarke had done what was needed of her, been the worst and the best for her people. Lexa has seen the life returning to Clarke’s gaze. Clarke is better than this death, is so much more than a body in the water.

Clarke turns onto her back, Lexa draws her hands from wet skin, but after weeks of looking she can’t keep her eyes from Clarke now. There’s surprise and suspicion in Clarke’s gaze and Lexa feels her anger grow hot. Lexa has cared for so long, has indulged in her weakness and for what? Clarke can give in to her nightmares? And now Clarke knows that she’s here, knows that more than the forest has been watching her grief, her healing. 

Lexa stands, pushing heavy braids from her face and feeling the common clothes she’s worn clinging to her skin. She’s soaked through and cold. She can see her reflection in the water and she wonders, _who is this dripping branwoda hiding from the one that she wants_. Who is this girl hiding in trees dreaming of a Skai Prisa and doing nothing to win her affection. These actions are not worthy of her Heda spirit, of her history.

Lexa does not look at Clarke as she stalks back to her tree. She climbs up the rough trunk to loosen the ropes and drop it all down to the ground. She changes  into something dry, gathers her bedding and weapons, and storms back into the clearing. Clarke is standing now, still sharp-breathed and naked but very much alive. Lexa could either kiss her or throttle her, there’s no clear action to take. So she walks past her and glares back for just a moment before throwing her things into the cave alongside Clarke’s.

She won’t hide any more.

Movement behind her lets Lexa know Clarke is dressing so she stretches her clothes out to dry and doesn’t turn back for some time.

//

Eventually, they sit.

There’s no shouting, or anger or even hard looks once they’re both being still. She’d been expecting something more from Skai Prisa, for the betrayal still so fresh. In the sun Clarke seems peaceful. As peaceful as Lexa has seen her.

  
And there’s nothing to say. They both did what they could, what was best for their people.

 

Without any warning something invisible breaks and Clarke’s eyes fill with tears. She cries shivering and silent, and Lexa’s eyes burn hot too, welling bright with the tears that she’s held back since The Mountain. Her hands flex to take Clarke’s but she has just enough strength to keep still.

She opens her mouth but Clarke shakes her head  _Don’t_ , and Lexa nods her O _kay_. She thinks maybe Clarke’s eyes hold a _Thank you_ in reply.

They watch the sun set, the moon rise and ignore their grumbling bellies to crawl into the cave. Lexa spreads out her furs as far from Clarke’s bed as the space will allow and lies herself down quickly, arms supporting her head to stare at the rock ceiling. She won’t be hiding in trees any more but Clarke needn't be uneasy. Lexa can keep her own space.

She swallows past her dry throat feigning unconcern as Clarke hesitates. She knows Clarke could hurt her. She can still see in her memory those sad blue eyes so dark with betrayal. If Lexa is hurt in return for her actions then so be it. She will accept what Clarke gives her.

But still. She hopes.

Clarke seems to weigh up a choice. It’s getting cold and she’ll need to feed the fire if they're to keep warm through the night. Lexa stops pretending not to care and shifts her hips and her shoulders so there's space for Clarke beside her. They would be more comfortable with the furs underneath them, the Skaikru blankets above.

Lexa hates that she hopes.

The look in Clarke’s eyes is too complex to read in periphery, but then the crease in her brow smoothes and she lays down on the furs, turned onto her side. Lexa stares up at the rock but she can feel Clarke observing her profile. She wonders if Clarke can see her pulse racing, can see how hard she fights to stay still.

When Clarke lifts a hand in a small and slow motion Lexa flinches. If Clarke sees the reaction she ignores it, reaching out further to touch Lexa’s arm, to trace the ink in her skin. Clarke must not have seen her tattoos before now.

Lexa lays her arm down in between them and Clarke’s wary gaze follows her own fingertips as they burn trails across Lexa's skin.

  
Lexa closes her eyes. Breathes deep as she trembles.


	3. Hold Me, Wrap Me Up

Clarke wakes to the feeling of her chest caving in. She can’t find her breath and the dark’s closing in. She’s going to die along with everyone she loves and theres nothing at all she can do.

Cage is there in the shadows refusing to move even as she stares into the dark and reminds herself he’s dead. He’s dead. Her heart’s beating furiously and a cold sweat slicks her skin. Why can’t she wake? A hand grabs her arm and she yelps, then covers her mouth. The Mountain Men will find her. And everyone will die.

She’s embraced by warm gentle arms and a cloud of soft hair falls down around her face. Lexa. Lexa wasn't there inside of The Mountain. She left Clarke alone on that night. Lexa is here in the forest, three days walk from the Drop Ship and Clarke has already saved her people. She's not in The Mountain, The Mountain is dead.

Lexa holds her close and Clarke can feel the calm settle around her. Her heart beat slows and she pulls Lexa closer meeting her warm searching gaze. Lexa watches her, breathing slow and deliberate. Clarke tries to match the pace and Lexa smiles encouragement as she strokes gentle fingers across Clarke’s cheek.

Everything eases and Clarke’s panic recedes. She’s safe. Her people are safe. And Lexa is here.

She heals. She shivers.

Lexa keeps Clarke in close as she reaches for the blankets they’d forgotten. With one arm she drags it over to cover them both. They had slipped into sleep sharing heat with Clarke tracing over Lexa’s arms. Now the cold touches their skin and Clarke feels it more keenly from the sweat on her skin.

Lexa opens her arms and Clarke takes the invitation to curl in close. She breathes deep, tucking her nose into the clean woodsy scent of Lexa’s skin.

She’s comfortable and warm. She sleeps and she doesn’t dream.

//

When Lexa wakes, Clarke is still tucked into her side. She’s snoring lightly blowing air across her neck and making her shiver. Lexa needs to get outside to relieve herself, but Clarke’s face is so calm and Lexa hates to admit that this is all that she’s wanted.

From the first night she saw Clarke shaken by nightmares, she’s wanted to hold her safe in her arms. Now that she’s here Lexa doesn’t want to let go. She doesn’t know if Clarke will let this continue once the nightmares are gone.

//

In the light of day Clarke continues as before except now Lexa walks with her. They forage together and Lexa shows Clarke the edible plants she’s been missing.

Lexa feels peaceful as she moves through the trees tapping on firm trunks just to hear the sound. There’s light filtering through the leaves making patterns on the ground and birds are dancing in the branches above. One bird catches her eye, so bright among the rest with red feathers on his chest contrasting with blue green on his wings. Lexa has never seen such a bird before.

Clarke is looking down, using a stick to shift back leaves in search of mushrooms. Lexa drops a hand to her shoulder and Clarke startles, shoves away Lexa’s hand and spins down to a defensive crouch, panic writ large on her face. Her eyes light on Lexa but still hunt for an enemy, hand twitching to her waist where a gun used to be. Lexa is glad that the weapon was left in the cave as she raises her hands in apology.

//

Clarke brushes off Lexa’s attempts at comfort and walks back to the clearing. They’ve foraged enough, lingered together too long. Whatever allowed Clarke to accept Lexa’s comfort in darkness is gone in the light. Lexa is Heda. The commander who walked from The Mountain and abandoned Clarke’s people.

Yet she is also Lexa. The girls who gave Clarke too much too fast in a tent before battle. Clarke remembers the war cry _Jus Drein Jus Daun,_ and quiet words meant only for her: ‘I do care, Clarke’.

Clarke worries little for her audience as she strips bare once again and slides into her pool. Lexa’s seen enough she is sure.

The water calms the worried voices in her mind.

 

Clarke had thought she was healing. Here in the water she understands that she has been hiding. 

She prays for the water to heal her.

For better or worse Clarke must find a new way to survive – to live. The panic and fear she's felt all morning make her feel like a child, reminds her of how she’d wanted to cry when her mother was strapped to that table, reminds her of the monster that murdered everyone responsible for putting her there. That would pull that lever again in a heartbeat.

For weeks she's left her self behind, denied that the Clarke from The Mountain had ever existed but now she must face her. The dreams haunting her won’t be so easily cleansed by day or by water. She knows that she still _is_  that Clarke, and she must learn how to marry the people that she _has been_ into a new, whole and complete person that she _will be_. She is commander, and healer, lover, and murderer. Once she was Clarke Griffin of the Ark, and then juvenile delinquent and then leader of The Hundred. Now she is Clarke Heda Kom Skaikru or Clarke Kom Trigedakru, or nothing at all.

When Clarke bursts to the surface with a shuddering breath the first thing she sees is Lexa, crouched by the water and watching with her gentle assured gaze. She doesn’t turn away as Clarke sinks back under.

//

For days they repeat the same pattern. They forage, they watch the sky, they sleep. When Clarke wakes in a sweat with a thundering heart Lexa holds soothing hands to her cheek and Clarke tugs her in close.

//

The morning Clarke wakes alone she must fight back a moment of panic, refusing to need Lexa when dawn is brightening the sky. She wanders outside and into the woods without looking for her, doesn’t need to know where Lexa might be. She needs Lexa to hold into in the night. But only then.

Clarke returns to the clearing to find Lexa standing still by the water, sword lifted high. Clarke’s heart immediately jolts as she scans the trees for a threat. But then Lexa turns around slow in a move too graceful for fighting. Her face is serene, the lines of her body fluid.

She’s training, and it’s beautiful.

 

Clarke had seen Lexa’s warriors perform similar motions at camp but never with such graceful balance. And never with Lexa among them. Clarke walks toward her in small careful steps. Lexa knows she is there, acknowledges her gaze but continues without pause. Eventually Lexa must reach the last position because she relaxes and lowers her blade. Clarke stands before her not sure how to say – how to show Lexa she’d like her to continue.

Lexa puts away the blade but seems to read Clarke’s thoughts as she returns to her dance. Clarke can only think of the movements as dance, no matter their purpose. Lexa leans into the first pose with one arm outstretched and her feet braced apart. She holds, then shifts into another position, the lines of her body never losing their grace. She waits, finds another then a fourth and a fifth position until she’s back in the first and looking at Clarke.

Clarke hesitates a beat then mimics her stance. Lexa shakes her head, stands up to full hight for a moment then relaxes again into the first position. Clarke looks up and down Lexa's body, at her own and adjusts. Lexa doesn't sigh exactly. She drops her arms, looks thoughtful at Clarke’s awkward posture then reaches out, hands pausing over Clarke’s hips. Clarke remains still to indicate her permission and gentle hands drop to her waist. Lexa tugs at her, pushes and twists in wide rapid motions that force Clarke’s whole body to move around her hips. Clarke almost laughs at the feeling.

Lexa’s eyes are full of soft emotion as she looks at her. Then Clarke blinks and the emotion is gone. Lexa quirks her brow instead with a wry smile and Clarke nods her understanding: she needs to loosen her hips and relax her body. Lexa resumes first position and once Clarke is holding the stance Lexa shifts to the next.

Clarke moves and she listens to the forest song.

 

Is a week with her long enough to heal?

 

//

Clarke’s nights are for dreams and for Lexa's tight hold, and in the day she feels guilty. She is using Lexa and she knows it. The way Lexa looks at her is giving, undemanding as always. But Clarke still isn’t there yet. She can’t look at Lexa the way that she knows she should. Lexa never seems disappointed or as if she wants anything more but Clarke can still feel it.

 

Lexa has gone hunting. Clarke wanted to follow to see how it’s done but Lexa had glared at her feet after only a few paces and Clarke knew she must wait. She would learn stealth first and hunting second. Once she regains some of her strength. She was surprised to feel sore after mirroring Lexa, the strain of holding her body in the smooth changing lines took more effort than she expected. After days of Lexa’s dance Clarke can feel her muscles lengthening, growing strong again. She’d guess that’s why they need the protein of fresh meat.

Clarke hunts for more mushrooms, since the protein would match well with whatever Lexa brings back. There’s few on the ground since the air has gone crisp and dry with cold and she gives up after an hour to just walk through the trees. The bark of most are rough and brittle and she can tear bits and splinters out easily.

Clarke draws out her dagger to press into the bark, to see what will happen. Sap, dark and sticky pours from the wound, flows and then stops. She tilts her head and the wind sounds like air filtered through ventilation underground. She twists the blade again and more sap leaks out, flows down the blade and coats her finders in warm sticky red. She hears drills tearing into bone.

Clarke turns, drops to her knees and vomits. One hand braces against the ground, her fingers twist into the grass and she rips out roots and dirt and doesn’t stop when she feels her nails break. She rips out more grass and punches a fist into the hole that she’s made.

She swings her fist into a tree truck hard enough to feel her knuckles crunch.

//

 

Lexa swings two new-dead _trigoufa_  by their long feet as she walks back to the clearing. Clarke has been smiling again, and Lexa feels light. Beyond Clarke’s change in expression, the training has given them something to do that isn’t looking for food or staring at the sky.

Lexa had not intended to share the _shigon_ with Clarke as the exercise is different from her clan’s usual style. It was Costia’s people who favoured the gentle defensive movements over more aggressive technique so she has had little opportunity to practice alongside anyone else. She hadn’t any idea the movements could be so – intimate, and hopes for more time to train on returning.

On reaching the clearing she sees Clarke sitting still on the rocks. She’s curled small, hugging her knees and staring into nothing. Lexa rushes to her side, blood oing cold when Clarke flinches from her touch. There’s blood on her hands and swelling on her knuckles indicates at least one break. Clarke’s gaze is unfocused and Lexa doesn’t need to ask her what happened. She recognises this pain.

 

Lexa draws Clarke to the water’s edge and she dips Clarke’s hand into the pool gently as possible.There’s at least one broken knuckle and two torn nails hidden under the dirt and the blood and she wrings out a scrap of cloth to wipe at the mess but her hands are shaking too much. Her hands shake and she's crying without meaning to.

Lexa has been so damn foolish. She'd let hope cloud judgement and reason.

How many times had she imagined Clarke's body broken and bloody on The Mountain before she’d heard of the massacre? Clarke should have died in that mountain without the aid of an army. Instead she had done the unthinkable to rescue her people, what Lexa could never have imagined the strange sweet Skai Prisa capable of. Seeing Clarke’s blood like this, staining the water brown—.

Lexa draws in a shuddering breath and tries to be strong. She's failing, but a thin pale hand moves to cover her trembling own. Clark is looking up at her, focused again. She takes the cloth away from Lexa with her damaged hand and grasps Lexa's trembling fingers with the other and looks into her. _I am here_  her eyes say, _I survived_. Lexa feels herself pleading for something(maybe for forgiveness) but Clarke cuts back with a glare, _Don’t you dare be weak_. Lexa cannot be weak, she does’t get to be weak when Clarke still needs her.

Lexa has to look away, she bites down on her lip as she breathes in deep through her nose. She blows out the breath and takes back the cloth, holding out her hand to request a return of Clarke’s still weeping hand.

//

A few days pass and Lexa is glad to see Clarke’s hand start to heal. Even more glad to see her good spirits return. Clarke’s smile becomes looser, more easily given and when the night cold sends them to bed Clarke still pulls her close.

 

The first flurry of snow falls heavy overnight and Lexa can feel the change without seeing it, fresh snow so rich in the air. She untangles herself from Clarke and slips from their bed to stoke up the fire. These temperatures will be colder than Clarke has  experienced on the ground and she wonders how cold Clarke’s home was in space. Maybe one day she’ll ask.

Clarke stirs soon after and they eat a breakfast of berries, dried meat and seeds. Lexa gives Clarke most of her berries knowing they're likely the last until Spring. She can't help but smile as Clarke happily accepts and snuggles back into their bedding. She knows that Clarke’s easy happiness is far sweeter than the freshest of sweet berries.

With the last of the fruit just a stain on Clarke’s fingertips Lexa encourages her Skai Prisa to stand and wraps furs around her shoulders. Clarke quirks a curious brow but doesn't object. There’s trust in her eyes – Lexa won’t hurt her.

Lexa takes up a blanket to wrap herself in and pulls back the canvas to show her outside. Snow coats the ground and dusts the trees around them. The pool shows signs of freezing around its edges and though the snow is done falling the clouds remain close. Clarke’s gasp is all Lexa could hope for. Such a small sound but the first Lexa’s heard that’s not coloured by nightmares.

She catches Clarke’s eye and nods out to the clearing. _Will you join me?_  she thinks, and Clarke nods like she really can understand. At this point Lexa thinks maybe she can.

She steps out onto the rocks and offers her hand to guide Clarke outside safely. Clarke’s hand slips from hers as they both reach the grass and Clarke runs a few steps but then stops without balance. She stares at the ground and stamps her feet to make frosted blades crunch. The wonder in her eyes is infectious and Lexa feels her heart grow large in her chest. Clarke turns just to smile and Lexa feels like she is seeing snow for the first time as well.

Snow has slipped off of the trees branches to pile deep in the shade. Clarke goes to nudge at the drift with her boots and there’s more crunching as Clarke kneels to lift up the ice and watch it melt in her fingers. Lexa debates joining her as she marvels at the crystals but opts to sit and watch instead.

This clearing must have been the last place for miles to see snow and the temperature is still warmer than it should be.  Lexa hopes that the snow stays for at least a couple days longer, time enough to enjoy it before receding to spring. Clarke will love spring, Lexa thinks, there will be so much beauty and joy to share.

Something hard and cold hits the side of her head, breaking apart on impact. Lexa’s jumps to her feet and her hand snaps to the knife at her belt but then she registers the familiar feel of cold water seeping into her collar. Ice melts into her hair and clothes.

Clarke stands a few meters away with a cheeky grin and pink fingers, grasping another chunk of snow.

 _You wouldn't dare_ , she thinks and this time Clarke feigns misunderstanding to toss another lump of snow which breaks apart at her feet. Lexa dips her head in warning and takes a step forward. Clarke edges back as Lexa moves closer, step for step until Clarke’s back hits a tree.

Lexa feints left and Clarke takes the bait bolting in the direction Lexa wants her to. She reaches out but Clarke is too quick slipping through and sprinting out around the pool. Lexa runs after her. She’s stronger and quicker, and has Clarke round the middle in only a few seconds, swinging her feet off the ground hands wrapped secure round her back.

When Lexa allows Clarke’s feet to contact the ground Clarke is gripping her collar, not pushing away. They’re both breathing deep and Lexa knows where they are, sees the same recognition in Clarke’s eyes. She doesn't let go. Her gaze flickers down to Clarke’s lips. And how could she not. Clarke’s eyes are bright, her cheeks are a beautiful pink, but her lips - her lips are blushed red with berries and cold, and Clarke’s hands are knotted tight in Lexa’s shirt. If Clarke wants to then maybe—

But Clarke blinks and looks up as a snowflake lands on her cheek. Her grin lights with wonder as one flake becomes many, their world losing depth to the whiteness. A muting blanket of snow falls on the woods and suddenly they're alone in the world. As if nothing exists outside of this place, no pain, no loss, no grief, only them. They are two girls in the woods with snow in their hair and unvoiced whispers in their hearts.

Clarke’s gaze returns from the sky, her fingers playing with one of Lexa's loose tied braids. Lexa feels Clarke’s grip refasten, she resolves to be still and not to react but then Clarke’s lips are pressing into her own, firm and warm, and Lexa melts as surely as the snow on their cheeks.

Lexa has never felt a kiss so sweet or so longed for and she kisses back with careful, equal pressure hesitating only when Clarke pulls back. She prepares to let go but then Clarke is nudging her nose and fitting their lips back together in exquisite sweetness.

They fit perfectly together. That’s all Lexa can think as her body sings like a bell struck in just the right tempo. Their bodies, their lips, and their lives are two halves of a whole and Lexa could never deny it.

 

An unwanted shiver runs through them and Clarke’s lips lose intent. She’s smiling though, over chattering teeth and Lexa wraps her close to guide her back to their shelter. The snowfall has become heavy now, there’s no reason to stay. And so many reasons to go. The fire, the warmth of their bed is all that they need.

Clarke’s smile remains strong and Lexa feels like her heart could break from the joy of it.


	4. Warm Me Up, And Breath Me

The snow falls for the rest of the day and Clarke can't seem to mind. It's cold and wet and smothering everything in a killing frost. But she has Lexa, and they have fuel for their fire and enough food for now.

She listens and feels content in the silence.

Lexa rests against the cave wall and Clarke leans against her, both wrapped in furs as they watch the snow falling. The stars were a sight to see from space, the Earth itself an everyday wonder. But she never had this.The fluttering crystals are beautiful. And Lexa is so very warm. On the ark she's had a few short-term someone’s to hold onto through moon rises. But she’d never had this.

Clarke sinks back further so her temple rests against Lexa’s jaw. She feels Lexa’s heart speed to a thumping rhythm.  There’s never been a person she affected this way and she can't help that her pulse quickens the same way. Maybe with more time and less desperate circumstances Finn might have been someone—.

But it’s useless to think of Finn, especially here. She won’t forget how she felt when Lexa demanded his life. She’ll never forget how it felt to push a blade through his heart. But she let Finn go, along with her guilt, on the day she lit his funeral pyre.

 

Clarke turns her head further to nudge at Lexa’s chin. Lexa’s discipline does her credit as she keeps herself still but her breathing has shortened to pace which gives her away. Clarke doesn’t aim to tease but Lexa’s stuttering breath is a sweet reward she cannot resist.

She nudges again but then Lexa’s knuckles go white against her knees and the moment of playfulness is gone. _Too much too soon_. Clarke turns back to the snow, a frown pulling her brow. She doesn't make any sound but somehow Lexa senses her mood, the white knuckles relax and Lexa nudges her nose just once against Clarke’s cheek. Clarke’s frown melts back into a smile and she turns back to nuzzle into Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s hand drifts to Clarke’s hip, thumb falling under Clarke's shirt, and stops – she’s hesitating again, her breath going short. Lexa won't ask for more than Clarke can give. She knows Clarke still mourns, that her nightmares remain.

Refusing the pull into darkness Clarke takes Lexa’s hands to play with her fingers. They both relax and forget to feel sad.

  
//

  
When the snow eases off to rain and then stops altogether Clarke drags Lexa into the clearing, prompting her with gentle nudges to train. Lexa eyes the soft mud knowing how it can get everywhere but Clarke is persistent and Lexa doesn't know how to say no. 

 

They move through the motions, each position bringing them closer together. Holding the final pose they're facing one another, a breath apart. Lexa is breathing hard from exertion, she’s leaning too far forward and staring at Clarke’s lips – those lips which lift up in a puckish smirk. Without warning Clarke shoves at her shoulder. Lexa, caught by surprise over corrects and nearly falls over. She recovers mid fall, shifts her advantage to drop to one knee and sweep Clarke’s feet out from under her.

It all happens in moments and Lexa can only watch as Clarke falls and lands hard on her back in the mud. Lexa drops to cradle Clarke’s head on her knees. Her hand hovers over her temple, to push back her hair but Clarke’s eyes focus and her voice bursts out in laughter. Real, beautiful laughter.

Lexa laughs along, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s foolishness even as she strokes Clarke's cheek with a tender hand.

Clarke regains some composure and holds her hand over Lexa’s where it rests on her cheek. Lexa swallows hard when Clarke turns their hands to press a kiss to her palm. She clears her throat, and Clarke takes stock of what she’s doing. Too much too fast. They've been here before but this kind of intimacy still walks a knifes edge too fine. Hurt and comfort are one and the same in their little world.

Lexa supports Clarke’s back as she sits up, then she stands to embraces Clarke’s arm and pull her upright. They release their grip, and Clarke with slow deliberate movements and a returning smirk shoves Lexa’s shoulder again. Lexa barely moves this time but she understands. Clarke’s training is moving on to the aggressive style _shegon_ today. Lexa shoves Clarke’s shoulder right back and now it’s Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes with a laugh. Lexa thinks she could get used to the sound.

Lexa deliberates over her request for a moment Training Clarke couldn't do any harm, not to Clarke anyway. When Lexa has to leave Clarke could come along as her Second. Although as equals in rank among their own peoples some other title or arrangement would have to be negotiated. Clarke could have her own tent and the same horse again if she wishes.

Clarke is looking at her in question and Lexa berates herself for rushing ahead. She doesn't know if Clarke will ever be ready to leave this place. She certainly can't know if Clarke will want to leave with her. Lexa has been ignoring the voice which tells her that time here is short. She hasn’t wanted to think of how the days are getting longer.

She resolves to think on it later but for now she drops into a basic fighting stance. It’s a variation on the first position they’ve already practised but pride still swells warm in her chest when Clarke mimics her posture with ease. They both grin as Lexa starts to move.

//

It starts to snow almost without stop and Clarke is missing her pool. The water though not frozen solid is simply too cold to wade into. There’s also distractingly little to do. Sitting and staring at the snow is easy to do but when hours turn into days some shine starts to wear off the experience.

On the third day they close off the doorway and stoke up the fire. In the warmth they strip down to light clothing and it feels good to be free of furs. Clarke pretends not to see Lexa staring at her legs and Lexa ignores the way Clarke’s eyes linger on her arms.

As a distraction from herself Clarke decides to go through Lexa’s bags. If Lexa dislikes Clarke’s intrusion, that's just too bad. She watched Clarke from the trees for days, maybe weeks. And while Clarke won't be holding Lexa’s intrusion against her she feels it does allow her some liberties. Especially where The Commander’s sense of privacy is concerned.

Lexa remains impassive as Clarke sorts through her things, dividing the contents of her bag; Clothes go in one pile, weapons in another, and personal effects in the third. The clothes go back into the bag with barely a glance. She’s seen all of Lexa’s civillian clothes, has even taken a shirt or two for herself. Some of the weapons are beautiful and Clarke will come back to them later – she ignores Lexa picking up one dagger to play with.

The third stack of objects is the most interesting to Clarke – the things Lexa brought out of want more than need. There’s a glass bottle moulded with flowers and vines. It is heavier than a skin and carries less than is useful. Clarke puts it aside to ask Lexa about later.

There’s a small mirror that gets put aside as well. Next is a silvery bangle which she slips over her wrist. She keeps Lexa in her sight line in case she wishes to object. For all that Lexa can take any sense of privacy and shove it, Clarke still doesn’t want to step on any personal taboos. Lexa’s expression is as impassive but there is a shine in her eye as she looks at the cuff, something like amusement maybe. Clarke examines the cuff more closely. It is truly beautiful with etched patterns and symbols much like Lexa’s tattoos.

 

It shines in the firelight and is much too big for Clarke’s wrist. It has a 'C’ profile allowing adjustment but she suspects it’s meant to be worn higher on her arm. She pushes it up, over her forearm and past her elbow until it’s firm around her bicep. It’s a comfortable fit and she wonders why Lexa doesn't just wear it instead of carrying it around with her. She looks up to see Lexa’s hands have stilled on her blade. Her expression would be comical if it wasn't so worrisome; she’s gone a brilliant shade of red and is avoiding her gaze. Clarke realises too late that the cuff is no simple piece of jewellery.

Clarke has a hand on her arm to push it back down, but Lexa grasps her wrist before she can move. The moment is tense with Lexa’s still red face too close to her own. Clarke can’t translate the odd twitch of Lexa’s jaw, but it's clear that Lexa would prefer Clarke keep the cuff on, despite her initial reaction.

Clarke can’t pretend to understand but she can do as Lexa asks her. A light piece of metal is hardly a burden, and given Lexa’s gentled expression when she nods Clarke feels like it’s already worthwhile. She turns away as Lexa has to make a visible effort to regain her composure.

There are still items remaining and Clarke catalogues each of them one at a time. There’s a coil of leather string for Lexa’s braids. A kit of healing ointments and bandages. A white river stone with a blue painted symbol. And a tiny wood carving of a two tailed fox, but nothing causes so strong a reaction in Lexa as the cuff. Clarke puts the first aid kit back in the bag, leaves the hair ties aside, and sets the fox and stone up on a ledge. The last item is Lexa’s war paint with a small brush clipped to the side.

Clark takes up the brush and as she opens the lid Lexa makes a small noise. Clarke looks up to see Lexa glaring at a cut on her finger where the knife must have slipped. Clarke lets her confusion show since surely the Commander has more skill with a blade. Lexa sighs and stares at the pot in Clarke’s hands.

Clarks doesn’t replace the lid but she does shuffle over to sit next Lexa whose index finger is now in her mouth. Her expression is somewhat petulant and Clarke doesn't hide her own smile. She sets aside the lid, takes up the brush and turns on her knees to face her. Lexa looks like she doesn’t like this at all but won’t lift a finger to stop her. Clarke pushes her brush through the wet paste, drags the excess off on the rim and lifts blackened bristles to Lexa’s eyes.

 _No_. Lexa halts Clarke’s hand with the force of her glare.

Not perturbed in the least Clarke dips her attention to Lexa’s exposed shoulder instead. Lexa huffs a sigh and Clarke tries not to look smug as she starts painting stars all across Lexa’s arm.

//

When Lexa somehow hides her kohl on the following day Clarke just uses charcoal instead, drawing abstract swirls all down Lexa’s legs. Clarke doesn't mind at all when Lexa gets tired of being a canvas, pins her down and sits on her thighs to wipe soot-black all over her cheeks. They both end up filthy, and rolling around in bright fits of giggles.

They sleep in their smudges and Lexa’s hands find the dip of Clarke’s hips.

//

The day after Clark hands Lexa the hair ties. Lexa tries to say no but gives-in to Clarke’s sharp glare. Lexa is not surprised to see that glare slip into a smile the instant she agrees. Clarke just spins to sit between Lexa’s outstretched legs and waits for her to do what she will.

Lexa briefly considers giving her Skai Prisa a child’s braid but once her fingers are in Clarke’s hair, nails running over her scalp the hum that comes from the back of Clarke’s throat makes her stop.

She opts for a warriors braid instead.

//

Hours later they sit cross legged opposite each other on the the comfort of their furs. Clarke lifts her arms between them one palm up and one palm down. Lexa looks utterly perplexed. Like she has never once played any kind of clapping game in her life. Clarke finds it hard to believe that grounder children could really have lost the art so quickly. Then again, maybe they haven't. Maybe it’s just Lexa. Clarke doesn't know what kind of childhood she had. She doesn't know when Lexa was called to command.

With that sad thought Clarke determines to bring Lexa into her game. Clarke raises her left hand to just-under eye level palm facing down, her right hand above her knee, palm facing up. Lexa mirrors her which is close enough. Clarke swaps her hands around and slaps her palms onto Lexa’s.

Lexa raises an eyebrow but when Clarke swaps the position of her hands Lexa mimics her and slaps their hands together herself. They run through twice more and when Clarke raises both hands toward Lexa she doesn’t need direction to meet both her palms. Lexa laughs out loud as Clarke finishes the set with a clap then claps her hands as well. Lexa takes the lead on the next round raising both arms between them with one palm up and one palm down. 

//

She has less trouble with _Down Down Baby_ , and Clarke can’t help but hum the tune as they play.

Lexa likes the sound and as they lay tangled in the dark she hums the melody into Clarke's ear until they both are asleep.

//

It snows for eight days total and Clarke doesn’t kiss her again, no matter how Lexa might want her to. The way that Clarke looks at her, the way her hands run over Lexa’s skin leaving charcoal and gooseflesh behind; Lexa thinks she could combust from wanting.

 

The snow clears and their days continue as they have done. In the dark they hold each other close, some nights interrupted by nightmares but most not. In the day they forage together then Lexa hunts alone. Sometimes Lexa catches Clarke diving naked into her pool, sometimes Clarke sinks in knowing full well that she’s there.

  
One time they sink in together.

  
Clarke leaves their cave on a nightmare dawn and Lexa follows her into the cool morning air. Clarke starts to undress leaving clothes as always in her wake. Lexa gathers them up and sits down on the rocks but Clarke stops at the waters edge and for the first time, turns back to look at her.

The sun is barely a whisper on the horizon but there’s light enough to see. Clarke's hair has grown long down her back, only some golden strands caught up in her braids. Lexa looses her breath to the sight and Clarke steals it again with a look that contains only explicit instructions. _Follow_.

Lexa acts as directed peeling off clothes just as Clarke always has, leaving a trail of fabric in her wake. When she reaches the edge Clarke is already submerged to the waist and she can’t catch her breath as Clarke looks at her. Lexa crumbles under a sapphire gaze as Clarke not only looks but really sees – from her crown to her toes, to the spirit beneath it all.

Lexa had bathed here before but never with Clarke, never even in the Skai Prisa’s presence. Clarke steps out deeper, never loosing Lexa’s gaze, drawing her out like a Wadageda Siren. Lexa feels Clarke's permission to join her, to see her.  And Lexa looks, oh how she looks at Clarke’s body. Now that Clarke grants her permission she truly can see.

When Clarke becomes still Lexa keeps moving and refuses to stop until she’s pressed up against her. There’s a small swell of water when their bodies collide and then Lexa can feel Clarke’s skin against hers. Warm and soft, and all she could ask for. She waits for the kiss though, always she waits. Clarke had said _not yet_ and today feels like _I’m ready_ , or maybe even _I need you,_  but still Lexa waits.

Clarke’s eyes hold so much promise and Lexa hopes hers show love. Clarke must see something she wants because she takes Lexa’s hands and wraps her arms round her waist. Lexa’s mind loses function and then Clarke is kissing her. Clarke threads her fingers though Lexa’s hair and sighs into her mouth, is kissing her with want and a hard, zealous passion. Lexa’s body thrums and she’s not just a bell, she’s a gunshot, a pyre, a war cry at dawn. She grasps at Clarke’s hips and pulls her in closer.

When dawn paints them gold neither will know who cried out first.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Regrets.


	5. Lost Myself And I am Nowhere To Be Found

Clarke couldn't say what brought her to this moment. Naked and pressed up against the one person she’d meant never to see again. All of the things she’s done have been for her people. They are her reason. But Lexa is her catalyst, the first spark in a chain reaction which has her gripping the knife, pressing the button, or pulling the leaver.

Clarke was a paper vessel on Lexa’s stormy seas and she was so happy to drown.

  
Now, Lexa is warm she is here and kissing Clarke back in a way that makes her forget.

When the water’s cold makes them shiver Lexa leads them back up the bank but Clarke is the one to draw them back to the cave, to push Lexa onto their bed. Lexa looks up at her, gaze lingering, eyes like worship. Her hands pray over Clarke's skin and she falls into the comfort of those hands, those fingers. Lexa sits up into her and kisses her sternum, thumb tracing lazy over the cuff on Clarke’s arm, gaze so close to devotion. Clarke pins her down with two hands and a look, and Lexa’s eyes are too full of trust when her back hits the ground.

Clarke runs both hands over every inch of skin she can reach, and her lips follow much the same. She presses wet kisses down Lexa’s belly, exploring smooth natural plains, one hand kneading the supple flesh above. Every scar and tattoo she encounters receives a kiss, a reminder in her lips to ask after later – a promise. She delights in the response she receives.

Lexa draws Clarke’s free hand to her lips and strokes her tongue over one digit. Clarke’s body responds, a growl curling up her throat, the tip of her index finger falls between Lexa's teeth and she outright moans at the feeling. She surges up Lexa’s body and swaps fingers for mouth, kissing and gasping as Lexa bites at her lip.

  
Everything after is a blur of grasping and flesh, of holding and having. With no words between them they ask for what they want with their hands instead. Too hard or not quite hard enough is shared in trembling thighs and shifting pressures, and as Clarke marks Lexa’s skin with scraping teeth Lexa takes hold of her wrist — guides her fingers into heat.

Soon after Clarke does the same, trembling and anxious with want.

They’re driven by passion, lust and Clarke thinks that maybe, they are driven by something more.

  
//

 

It’s noon before they put any clothes on and Lexa slips into a shirt that's not hers. The fabric is soft, it smells like Clarke and feels right against her skin.

//

They forage and hunt most days, they communicate without words, and Lexa feels no loss in their silence. Her Skai Prisa says more without language. In the press of her lips, in the marks scratched down her back, or painted across her thighs Lexa hears and understands Clarke's meaning.

 

Days and nights continue. Some nights Clarke still cries and Lexa holds her tight. Sometimes they stare at the blue sky, sometimes they swim; Lexa tries teaching Clarke how to shoot with a bow. They laugh and play, and always they spar.

Their sparring changes most as Clarke earns greater skill. Not skill enough yet to gain the upper hand but enough to keep Lexa on task. Lexa might let her win sometimes. When Clarke brightens with the right kind of fire, and moves with a finer skill, then Lexa wants her to know. If that means letting Clarke pin her to the ground then so be it. A warrior learns best through recognition and reward.

  
//

  
Lexa blocks a weak attack and kicks Clarke’s feet out from under her. When her back hits the ground Lexa drops a knee either side of her hips and Clarke feels her body heat. Clarke tries to flip them but Lexa’s grip is too tight, the weight of her body too precise. She gives up her struggle and catches Lexa’s gaze. They still don’t often kiss in the day light but sometimes she's weak.

Lexa releases her wrists and sits back on her heals. She stands, offering Clarke her arm. She takes it without thought, the skin so familiar under her palm. Lexa’s eyes are bright, her skin slick with sweat and Clarke wonders idly if Lexa’s skin will become dark in the sun. She wonders if the summer will last long, and if Lexa enjoys it more than the snow. She wonders if Lexa can swim, if she has any siblings and what her parents are like. She wonders what Lexa wants to do now that the Mountain has fallen. She wants to know what the Heda does when the land is in peace. Clarke looks into her eyes and for the very first time since the fall she can think of the future.

She can see the future in her eyes.

Lexa holds onto Clarke’s gaze, unafraid and Clarke is grateful. Lexa moves to withdraw but Clarke grabs a hold of her fingers to keep her close, eyes drifting over her lips back to her eyes. Lexa understands and tilts her head in surprise, asking _Now?_  She nods, and because Lexa understands her she waits.

Clarke looks down, suddenly afraid of what hearing her voice – her own words again could mean. She sees Lexa’s fingers wrapped around her own, looks up and sees calm undemanding affection.

“Lexa,” she says. Lexa smiles and Clarke feels strong. “I—“.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s warm familiar voice calls from the trees. “Clarke!” She bursts from the forest and into the clearing.

Clarke turns in surprise, her grip tightening around Lexa’s fingers as Octavia pulls her into a tackling hug.

There’s more noise in the trees and then Bellamy and Lincoln come into sight as well. Octavia steps back, looking Clarke over. Her eyes light on Clarke and Lexa’s joined hands but she makes no comment and Clarke doesn’t let go.

Octavia is still all darkness and swagger, sword tied to her back and she nods a stern greeting to her Heda before turning back to the Skaikru. “Took you guys long enough, I’ve been here for hours.”

Another person files in behind the group: a cautious looking Indra, and her presence is a shock of reality. Clarke jolts and turns to meet Lexa’s already sharp gaze. They confer in silence and release their gripped hands.

Their time here is up.

  
//

  
They're needed again. That's all Clarke can gather from the jumble of sounds. The words are Skaikru’s of course. Indra just tipped her chin in greeting and wandered off to the rocks to keep watch.

Bellamy hugs Clarke close then grants Lexa a nod. No one seems surprised to find her there. Lincoln grasps Clarke’s hand and bows to Lexa. Clarke isn't sure but she thinks Lexa might hide a smile before granting a curt nod.

Bellamy is the first to ask a direct question. 'Will you come back with us, Princess?’

Lexa’s wrist shifts like she'd like to take Clarke’s hand again. Clarke hums to test her voice, unsure of volume or pitch. 'How soon am I needed?’ The syllables feel blunt on her tongue.

//

  
They agree to leave and the Skaikru head back to their horses. Indra stays a respectable distance away in the woods ready to guide them back. Clarke and Lexa pack up their bedding, their clothes and belongings, nothing landing in the right bag. Clarke ends up with Lexa’s face paint in her pocket and Lexa has Clarke’s flint stones but it doesn’t matter. They’re not planning to be long apart.

Clarke needs more time to heal.

She survives. She needs.

  
//

Lexa is glad to see Brooklyn again and by the way he nudges her chest she thinks he feels the same. She pats his soft nose and breathes in his gentle horse scent. Clarke stands by shy until Lexa clears her throat asking permission. Clarke nods.

’Brooklyn,’ Lexa says to her. 'His name is Brooklyn.’ She looks into her friend’s eyes. 'Brooklyn, this is Clarke.’

  
They only brought one extra horse so when Indra says they need to leave Bellamy offers his hand but Clarke ignores him to join Lexa on her saddle instead. The way back is peaceful and Lexa hums along to the tree song, her voice and her heart beat calming Clarke's ragged nerves.

//

Their trip back to the Skaikru Ark is a full day by horseback so they arrive at the electrified fence not long before dark. Lexa draws her Shoulder guard and cowl over her shoulders along with her sword. Clarke looks like she understands but doesn't search for her gun. Indra accepts Lexa’s bag and extra weapons without a word strapping them across her own saddle.

'I'll come to TonDC tonight,’ Lexa says, curious to see how the rebuilding goes.

'Alone?’ Indra asks. Her question is practical, without judgement.

'No,’ Lexa replies.

Indra nods and Lexa knows that her tent will have provisions for two. Lexa only hopes she has not misread Clarke’s intention.

//

  
Passing through the gates is harder than Clarke is willing to say and Lexa’s warmth at her back is a much needed comfort. Reaction from the Ark is slow and she longs for the close shelter of trees. The guards are quiet seeing Bellamy’s signal but the remaining Arkers start to notice Clarke is with them, that the Commander is too. A murmur spreads and more people spill from the ark.

Metal and plastic echoes loud all around.

Abbey appears in the main doorway between them. 'Oh thank God,’ Abbey sighs and Clarke realises she's missed her Mom’s voice. She rushes forward to throw her arms around Clarke’s neck. 'Clarke, I missed you so much.’

Clarke swallows before saying, 'I missed you too,’ and feels tears in her eyes though the missing is so new.

 

They’re still hugging close when Abbey stiffens. 'Why is she here?’

Clarke pulls back to see Abbey is glaring at Lexa.

'I want her to be here.’ She quiets the word _need_.

’But she’s the–’

’Chancellor,’ Clarke interrupts firmly. Abbey’s still wearing the pin, she should act like she deserves it. 'So far as I know we are still in Trigedakru territory. We will respect—’ Abbey scoffs at the word but Clarke continues. 'We will respect her right to decide what occurs on her land.’

Abbey continues to glare but gesture’s behind her. ‘The council is waiting for you.’

Clarke nods and resists the urge to take Lexa’s hand. ‘How long has it been?’

Abbey’s gaze moves over Clarke’s frame taking in her clothes which are mostly Lexa’s, her hair half caught up in braids. 'Two and a half months.’

Clarke ducks her head and moves towards the door.

//

The council sits at what Lexa can only describe as a war table. Black armoured men stand at the wall with guns in their hands, the Skaikru leaders sitting in a half circle facing the door. They’re waiting for Clarke and Abbey moves to stand behind her chair at the head of the council table watching her daughter.

They're watching Clarke like she's a dangerous animal and Lexa knows that her Skai Prisa is stronger than they’ll ever be.

Kane is the first to speak. ‘Clarke, it is good to see you.' He may be the only one besides Abbey who could say that as the truth. ‘We have much to discuss.’

‘Why have you brought me here?’ Clarke says, already tired of words.

’Diplomacy,’ a man says. Miller, Lexa thinks. He's less comfortable at this war table than others.

Abbey speaks next. ‘We’ve been allowed to trade among the Grounders but still haven’t received an audience with the Queen in Polis.’ Her mouth sneers on the word _audience_.

Lexa shows as little surprise as Clarke, though both keenly feel it. ‘You’ve been to Polis?’ Clarke asks.

‘Not yet,’ Abbey replies. ‘We were told to wait. We had to formerly ask the Commander first.’ She glares daggers at Lexa. ‘But we never got to see her.’

Of course Indra could grant nothing in Lexa’s absence. Certainly nothing like this. She thinks how much restraint Indra’s shown in neither killing Abbey Griffin nor coming to find her.

‘They seem to be stalling us and we thought you could help get us in.’ Kane looks at the small space between them before adding, ‘I guess we were right.’

Abbey sits down now and Lexa follows Clarke to stand nearer the table. They ignore the chairs set out for them.

‘We have demands to be met,’ one councillor states and they start listing them one after the other. Nothing unreasonable, but demands nonetheless.

‘Can’t this wait?’ Clarke interrupts. She’s as disturbed as Lexa by this ambush. It seems the council aims to force Clarke’s compliance while she’s tired and off balance. ‘Stop.’  
  
The council turns to Abbey. ‘Clarke—‘ she starts.

'No!' Clarke pulls herself back as Abbey seems to shrink from her. 'No, just wait until morning. We will sit in council then. Now go, sleep,’ she gives her order like the commander she is. ‘Rest will do all of us good.’

Clarke turns to Lexa eyes pleading, her hands shaking.

Abbey doesn't understand. ’Clarke. You can't just—’

’Enough.’ Lexa cuts her off. She will not let this continue. ’Clarke has earned this right many times over. You will respect that.’

Clarke is walking toward the door and Lexa follows.

’Where are you going?’ Abbey asks. ’There’s a room for you here.’

Clarke shakes her head. ‘I don’t need it.’

Abbey’s expression is familiar, so much like Clarke’s worried frown. ‘I thought you’d come home.’

Clark turns her body toward Abbey her eyes are on Lexa. 'I have,’ she says and turns away. 'I'll return in the morning.’

//

Clarke doesn't break down until the Ark is far behind them. Lexa trails after her with Brooklyn, unsure what to do or to say. When Clarke finally stops she sinks to her knees, not crying though her body shows a grief Lexa’s not seen in weeks. She drops Brooklyn’s reins to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'Clarke?’ 

'Don’t touch me!’ Clark spins around shoving both hands into her chest. Lexa stands strong, hands by her side as Clarke shoves her again. 'Why aren't you fighting?’ Clarke shouts. 'Isn't that what you do?’ Another shove. 'Commander. Isn't that what we do?’

'Clarke.’ Lexa can’t say anything more as Clarke's fist connects with her jaw. Her ears ring with the impact and Clarke swings again holding her shoulders in the way Lexa taught her. Lexa could dodge or fight back but she lets the hit fall. 

'Fight back!’ 

Lexa doubles over winded by a punch to the gut but stands straight again with arms by her side as she finds her breath. 'No.'

'Fucking fight,’ Clarke screams through her tears, a fist connecting with the hard ridge of Lexa's eye. 'Hit me back!’ Another hit splits Lexa’s lip. 'Hit me.’ Clarke's voice looses strength and she shoves Lexa's chest with open palms again.

Lexa stumbles but doesn't fall and doesn't fight back.

'Hurt me.’ Clarke's voice is a watery rasp as she falls to her knees and wraps her arms around Lexa’s legs. Lexa feels her own tears hot on her cheeks as she looks down at Clarke’s shaking shoulders. She's still talking but the words have lost coherence,  her bowed head pressed into Lexa’s thighs.

Lexa eases down to her knees.

'Please,’ Clarke cries. Her face is stricken. 'I can't. It's too much.’

Lexa pulls her in close to press a kiss into her hair, leans back to look into her eyes. 

Clarke is hollow, broken and scared. 'I’m not strong enough,’ she whispers.

Lexa ignores the pains in her abdomen to lift Clarke to her feet. With an arm round Clarke's shoulders and another under her knees she scoops her up and clicks her tongue. Brooklyn kneels beside them to receive Clarke and then Lexa on his back and she wraps both arms around Clarke’s waist as he stands.

Lexa can feel the cuff of white gold high on Clarke's arm. The promise of fealty and love she'd not known she was ready to give is a promise she gladly makes now. 'I won’t let you go.’


	6. Warm Me Up, And Breath Me(II)

The camp is quiet when they arrive. A young Second takes Brooklyn to be stabled and Lexa carries Clarke into her bed. Before her head hits the furs startled blue eyes open and panicked hands grab at Lexa’s sleeves. Lexa pulls Clarke in close without thought. She breathes in the smell of her hair, brushes loose strands from her face and kisses her cheeks.

Clarke takes a shaky breath and looks up at her with thanks.

Lexa smiles around a cut in her lips and Clarke sits back to tilt her chin toward the candlelight. There’s apology grief and deep caring in Clarke’s eyes and Lexa manages another smile, taking Clarke’s hand to kiss forgiveness and understanding into her skin.

'Lexa, I—'

She stops Clarke's apology with a look. She can apologise another time. _Not now_.

If Lexa has learned anything in these past months it’s that hurt and anger take up too much time in their lives and Clarke is tracing over the marks in her face as if the dance of fingertips alone could heal. Lexa runs her hands from Clarke’s shoulders down the length of her arms to tug Clarke's hands from her face. Clarke’s brow furrows into a frown which Lexa kisses away before standing. She draws Clarke with her to a small table at the end of her bed. Her bathing things and a mirror occupy the tabletop next to a small medicine chest and she sits Clarke on the mat in front of the table before settling down beside her.

In the mirror she sees just how much damage Clarke has done and can only feel happy with how Clarke’s sparring skills are improving. When she turns back, her Skai Prisa has apologies and hurt welling fast in her eyes. With quick motions Lexa returns to her task pulling ointments and remedies from the chest, and bringing a covered bowl of water toward them. She will show Clarke how well she can heal such minor damage.

Clarke watches intently, picks up and smells the contents of each pot then arranges them. Without any instruction she groups them by cleansing, antiseptic, and soothing properties. Lexa wonders how Clarke can fail to see her own brilliance. Clarke as always shrugs away Lexa’s admiring gaze. 

 

Clarke tries to keep her hands from trembling, her focus on Lexa’s steady breath. The herb pastes will heal the damage her fists have done, and Lexa has already forgiven her, or never really blamed her and certainly won't allow any apology to be made. She washes her hands in one bowl with a square of soap, picks up a cloth from the second and soaks it in the warm water. She wrings out some of the moisture and tilts Lexa’s face into the light. Clarke’s knuckles show damage as well and Lexa tries to divert her, but Clarke won’t let that happen. Lexa's wounds need treatment more than the fists that inflicted them.

There’s blood around a cut on Lexa’s eyebrow, over her cheekbone and lip, and bruises have bloomed around her cheek and jaw. The worst damage is on the right side thanks to Clarke’s stronger left arm. The hand-tremors come back again but Lexa looks calmly into her eyes and breathes steady, her eyes smiling where her lips cannot. 

 

By the time Lexa’s face is clean of dried blood, the water in the bowl is brown. Clarke rinses her hands again in the soapy water and moves onto the pots of cleanser. She tilts Lexa's cheek toward the light and daubs some paste into the gash in her eyebrow. The deep cut will scar and, while her lip will be fine, her cheek is swollen, possibly broken.  She wonders how these marks will contribute to the talley scattered across Lexa's body. 

Clarke spreads a herbal antiseptic over both the eyebrow and cheek cuts and gently kisses the split in Lexa’s lip. Last Clarke applies a cool, flowery smelling ointment across Lexa’s jaw and cheek where fresh bruises are forming. Lexa’s eyes flutter shut with her relief and Clarke feels a measure of guilt conflict with the sweet warm feeling her contented expression brings.

In the crate of medicines Clarke spots a glass jar filled with tea, she opens it and smells sawdust. Lexa grimaces as Clarke looks happily between her and the jar of white willow bark. Apparently the commander takes less kindly to this method of treatment than to Clarke’s healing hands. Clarke knows a brew of willow bark will work wonders for them both and she looks at Lexa sternly as the commander tries to argue with nothing but a pout.

Clarke doesn’t put the jar down, just glares until finally her patient stands, leaves the tent for a minute to return with a vessel of steaming hot water and two metal cups. Lexa places all three on the table and flops herself down with a sigh.

Clarke can’t help herself, she kisses Lexa’s cheek and leans back, biting down on a grin to shake a pinch of bark into one cup. When she puts the jar down Lexa picks it back up again and prepares the second cup for her to have some as well. Clarke supposes willow bark couldn’t be as bad to drink as Lexa is making it seem. Lexa looks a little smug as she fills both cups with hot water and Clarke wonders if she’s this childish with all of her healers.

 

As they wait for the tea to brew Lexa sees to Clarke’s hand. One knuckle is split and all are spreading fresh dark blood through the old bruises. Lexa’s fingers are familiar and healing as she follows the same treatment of sterilising the cuts and spreading a soothing balm across all of her knuckles. Clarke feels a shared peace with Lexa. The act of healing, of being healed brings them ever closer as they find peace in one another.

 

They stand when the tea cools enough to drink. Lexa sniffs at her cup and grimaces in the dramatic fashion of a child presented with a green protein block. Clarke shakes her head breathing the pleasant woody aroma of her own tea. She holds out the cup to toast and Lexa clicks her cup against it. They both smile at the shared tradition and tip their chins back to drink

Clarke nearly gags.

Lexa, more accustomed to the taste just grimaces and, to Clarke’s horror, empties her cup in one gulp. She looks down into Clarke’s half full one and gives the same stern look that had been turned on her earlier. Clarke frowns, steels herself and tips down the last mouthful. She shakes her head and lets out a disgusted sound through a wide open mouth.

Lexa laughs and kisses her cheek as she takes the cup to drop it on her little table. The tea works its magic quickly laying a heavy blanket on her mind. Clarke thinks she could lay down right where she is and sleep for years,  but Lexa has other ideas.

She's wearing a devilish smirk and  before Clarke can move Lexa catches her around the middle, runs her backwards and tackles them into the bed. Their laughter is louder than it should be but Lexa doesn’t seem to care as she sits on Clarke's hips. The deliriously happy grin never leaves her face as she tickles blunt fingers up and down Clarke's sides.

//

Lexa wakes with early dawn, as tangled with Clarke as she had been falling asleep. Clarke’s snores fall on her collar as she breathes in blonde hair, her arm numb under Clarke’s weight. Her body ache’s brutally and she hopes her face doesn’t look as bad as it feels. Not for her own sake but for Clarke’s. She doesn’t need any more difficult conversations today and the combination of Lexa’s bruises with the state of Clarke’s knuckles will certainly raise some questions.

Clarke nuzzles into her side and Lexa can’t help but smile. Their sleep was unbroken by nightmares and Clarke looks so peaceful in this light that it’s hard to imagine the night terrors could still plague her. Lexa prays to the forests that this peaceful expression reflects Clarke’s sleeping mind.

She decides to send a messenger telling the Skai Council that their meeting will have to wait.

//

 

Clarke pushes through Lexa’s clothes and pulls some shreds of beeded cloth from the chest. ’Can I have some of these to wear?’

'Not those, no.’

Lexa has been given a number of charts and maps which hold her attention, but Clarke is in a playful mood.

After a full night’s rest and a warm morning bath she feels fresh and light. 'Why not? Am I not good enough for the Commander’s clothes?’

'No,’ Lexa says without looking up. 'They are only for me.’

Clarke is surprised by her serious response. 'I've been wearing your clothes while we were... away.’

'We were alone.’

'Indra saw us.’

She shrugs. _Indra_ _is different_.

Of course. She is unquestionably loyal. Clarke determines to ask Lexa more about Indra, her place, and their hierarchy.

Or maybe she’ll ask Lincoln. He has a teacher’s patience, the kind she and Lexa both lack. An image flashes through her mind of Lincoln strung up, writhing with a charge of electricity that she forced into his body. She pushes the thought away along with the memory of Octavia slashing a knife across her wrist.

Lexa must sense the dark shift in her thoughts because Clarke finds herself wrapped up in warm arms with Lexa’s kisses pressing into her hair and along her cheek. She returns the embrace with thanks written in her arms and she’s glad that in all the noise here they still can read each other fluently.

Clarke breathes Lexa’s scent in deep, releases her breath and steps out of their hug. She sighs, forcing her light mood to return. 'What can I wear then?’

'Don’t you have more clothes at The Ark?

'They're from before.’

Lexa gives a small smile, _I understand_. She understands how Clarke longs to leave that girl behind.

 

Clarke feels a future in Lexa's kiss.

 

//

Lexa leads Clarke through the camp. Eyes and voices follow them through and Clarke can feel their anger as they see Lexa’s bruises and Clarke’s hand. They know what Clarke has done and it’s only Lexa’s protective presence which keeps them away. Many nod their heads to Lexa with a murmured ‘Heda,’ but most look away from Clarke as if they fear her. 

On the other side of camp there are more permanent structures. There’s a food store and smith already finished, next to what Clarke could best describe as a tailor.

She turns a questioning look on Lexa. 'I don’t have anything valuable.’

Lexa waves off the concern and approaches a woman stretching out pieces of cloth across a table wielding an impressive pair of scissors. They exchange a few words in Trigedasleng and the woman nods. She walks around her table and hustles Clarke into the middle of the room so she can circle around, examining every inch of her body.

'I don't need anything made for me,’ she tries to say but the tailor scoffs.

Lexa smiles. ’There are few ready made pieces Clarke. And as a leader, your clothes will need to suit your station.’

'Like a uniform?’

’No. A uniform marks you as equal to many. Minnia will create something more appropriate.’

The tailor, Minnia, must find her muse. She pushes at Clarke’s coat and manually strips her of layers until her arms are bared. Minnia's hurried gestures stop so suddenly that Clarke looks down to see the tailor's gaze is fixed to the silvery band on Clarke’s upper arm. Clarke tries to catch her eye but Minnia looks away, first to Lexa and then down to the ground muttering in a long string of Trigeda, something about Skaikru and a word Clarke recognises as ‘trouble’.

Lexa doesn't seem to hear any of it as she watches Clarke with an openly admiring gaze. Minnia goes back to removing clothing until Clarke stands in only a thin singlet and underwear, fighting a deep blush. The fact that the singlet covering her upper half is Lexa’s doesn't diminish the feeling of being caught under that look. That she has been much more naked in front of her takes none of the heat from Lexa's gaze.

 

Minnia wraps a white plastic measuring tape around Clarke’s hips, her middle and chest, and measures up her legs and arms. The woman’s hands are hard and efficient then gone. She’s done within a minute and shoos them both out of the hut with a few choice words that going by her tone can’t be polite.

'She is very good at what she does,’ Lexa explains and Clarke understands. Minnia has a valuable skill which puts her in a rank closer to Heda than most.

//

Barely an hour later, she and Lexa are summoned back to the tailor’s hut and Clarke is stripped down again. This time she’s left almost entirely naked hugging her bare chest and feeling that the skaikru underwear is flimsy and indecent compared to practical Grounder underthings. Maybe it's time for an exchange.

Minnia pulls Clarke’s arms away from her chest and to her sides, tutting like she must with fidgeting children. Lexa doesn’t manage to cover her smirk.

'Shop of,’ Clarke says darkly and receives a slap on her naked hip from Minnia for the bad language.

Brusque hands pull pieces of this fabric and that leather and those buckles over various part of her body until Clarke feels like a doll, dressed and redressed for the Commander’s amusement. If she wasn’t confident that Minnia had no sense of humour she might have thought they both were messing with her.

At some point the various pieces start to stick, to be buckled together and layered to cover more skin than is exposed. There’s a myriad of pieces and materials and she’s likely to need instructions on how to dress herself tomorrow. Minnia tightens a thick belt round Clarke’s waist hard enough to test her ribs’ strength and then steps back. With a satisfied nod she barks a blunt order and motions for Clarke to turn around. Clarke does as she’s told and spins slowly on the spot. When she has turned full circle Minnia is standing directly in front of her supporting a tall framed mirror.

Now Clarke can see the whole set of clothes, she understands what Lexa had meant before. This is not just a uniform – it’s an identity. She now understands why the long coat given to her before their attack on Mount Weather had felt and looked so wrong on her all these weeks. Because it was wrong. And these new clothes are so very right.

Lexa stands next to her to see what Clarke is seeing. With both of them reflected the contrast is marked. They both appear as Heda, but they are wholly different – two side of the same coin. Trigedakru and Skaikru, ground versus sky. While still dark in tone, Clarke’s clothes show more navy than Lexa’s ever have. Instead of Black buckles and straps, Clarke can see burnished bronzes and metallic blues. In contrast to Lexa’s black shoulder guard and trailing red cowl, Minnia has constructed Clarke a bronzed steel shoulder plate with a cape in the same blue shade as her eyes.

She and Lexa both look up and down Clarke’s body, comparing and contrasting until their gazes connect. Lexa's eyes are ablaze her face lit with a smile Clarke knows well. This is the expression that so defined the Commander as she stood over her army, calling for the warm flowing blood of the Mountain Men as she heard the war cry answered a thousand fold; This is the smile Lexa shared with her as they moved in the midst of that marching horde. This smile is elation, adrenalin, and a potent fervour for what lies ahead.

Clarke feels the force of that smile drive through her chest and into her gut – and she understands why men have so gladly died for her Commander, her Heda.


	7. Be My Friend

Dressed in the style of Lexa's people Clarke is transformed. When Lexa first met her, Clarke was a scared brave and determined girl. Since the Mountain, Lexa has been witness to a transformation. Clarke is still brave is still determined but she is also strong, harder and even more beautiful than before. A steel shines in Clarke’s eyes made brighter for the colours wrapping her shoulders. Lexa recognised a shift as soon as Clarke saw her own reflection. 

When they leave Minnia's hut Lexa sees that the new clothes highlight Clarke’s natural figure as well as her new aware way of walking – the shift and sway of her hips. Clarke gives her a look, and Lexa follows the implicit command without hesitation, leading her back to their tent.

Before Clarke can reach the doorway Lexa rushes ahead to lift the animal pelts from her way. She guides Clarke inside with an innocent brush of her hand. As soon as the doorway is closed behind them Clarke pulls Lexa into a kiss which is anything but innocent.

//

They leave for the ark in early afternoon. It’s getting warmer now, the sun baking Clarke faster than it has since the hundred first arrived on earth. Wet forrest undergrowth soaks the air in a green flavoured damp that she’s never experienced before. She’s glad of the light cloth layers making up her new grounder clothes.

They ride on separate horses to the gate with Indra, Ryder and a woman called Echo who was among those liberated from the mountain. In sight of the Ark they dismount, Indra and Ryder keeping with the horses while Echo follows Clarke and Lexa to the gate.

In the sunshine Clarke glances over at Lexa, war paint dark around her eyes. She suspects that she must appear as the sun to Lexa's moon – warriors of alike but opposing forces. She feels powerful standing next to the Commander. But she is also nervous. She may have been physically separate from her people these last months but she’s always been aware of their distant existence. Despite what she may want, she still cares about what they think of her, and the state of Lexa’s face is concerning. In the village no one dared to ask or make any suggestion as to the source of Lexa’s bruises, the sky people will likely show no hesitation. Warpaint covers the bruising around her eyes but the best healing ointments couldn’t stop the colour along her jaw, nor on Clarke’s sprained and bruised knuckles.

She has to swallow the worry as Bellamy opens the gate looking stern. He looks over Clarke’s new clothes making a swift and obvious comparison to how she appeared the day before. He carries a serious looking rifle but the weapon’s not what grants him the air of authority that Clarke failed to see in their journey.

‘Clarke,’ he says, slinging the rifle over a shoulder to offer his hand. She lifts her own hand cautiously but then he shakes his head with a smile and pulls her into a tight hug. She hesitates for a second before wrapping her arms around him too. ‘Glad you could be here.' Clarke understands what he doesn't say; that the Clarke he brought from the field wasn't one he recognised. 'The council isn’t happy with you showing up late,’ he says stepping back. ‘I hope the wardrobe change was worth pissing them off.’ Clarke stiffens but Bellamy laughs as he lets go of her shoulders. ‘Grounder life suits you.’

He pulls at the bronzed shoulder plate and looks into her eyes. She wonders what he sees there. Does he see the hundreds they killed in the mountain. His eyes are warm, his expression open. He lacks the haunted pain she felt in herself only a few weeks past and she hopes that what she’s seeing is real. She hopes he’s healing too.

Bellamy grants Lexa a nod then pushes past them both. Echo had stalled at the gate, looking at the guards and civilian skaikru like she would rather be anywhere else. Bellamy strides toward her and doesn't stop until he’s well within her personal space. Clarke half expects Echo to kick Bellamy to the ground but instead she smiles, bright and warm. Clarke shares a glance with Lexa. This is good, they agree. If the Skaikru are to join the coalition then these relationships will be invaluable. Clarke isn’t sure when unification became her goal but she knows it's the only way to ensure continued peace for their people.

With Bellamy distracted Clarke is unsure how to proceed. She can’t see anyone from the council around and the other Arkers seem content with observing them like foreign animals. Lexa tenses beside her and Clarke instinctively moves closer. There’s a thunder of footsteps and then Monty is wrapping himself around her. Her heart thunders at the sudden closeness but she hugs him back with as much strength as she can manage. He was there in the mountain too, he played his part and he made it out alive. Or as alive as any of them could be. Stepping back to look at his face she sees he's thinner than he should be but his eyes are warm as Bellamy’s and she hopes all the Mountain survivors look so strong. 

Monty releases her and Raven approaches next, hesitating when Clarke flinches. Only Raven would notice her reaction – Raven sees everything as her eyes roam over Clarke’s knuckles and Lexa’s jaw. Clarke can see scars on her cheeks too matching a darkness in her eyes but she also sees bright life and happiness. Clarke feels her throat tighten but she fights back the tears. It’s too early in the day for emotions. Raven takes another uneven step and Clarke breaches the distance between them to pull her into a hug. Raven smells like engine grease and woodsmoke and Clarke has missed her so much.

Over Raven’s shoulder Octavia appears with Lincoln beside her. She knows she saw them yesterday. But yesterday feels like a lifetime ago and Clarke had been in no frame of mind to appreciate her friends. Her very alive friends. Octavia doesn’t wait for Clarke to release Raven she just runs over and joins the hug. It hurts and it’s wonderful and Clarke is turned around on the spot by the swaying weight of her friends until she can see Lexa watching over them with smiling eyes.

More of the original hundred – the forty two – however many of them are left start to join them. Monroe is the first to grasp Clarke’s arm in the grounder way, Harper and Miller follow, then all the rest approach to shake her hand, or hug her, or even just grasp her shoulder in something that feels like a thanks. Jasper never appears, she isn’t surprised and no on mentions him. The rest come and they go. Clarke guesses they all have work of their own to do.

Once there’s just Raven Octavia and Monty again Raven makes a show of looking Clarke over. ‘Why the fuck are you wearing a cape?’

Lexa smothers a laugh as Octavia rolls her eyes. Clarke laughs too, feeling light. ‘I have super powers now.’

‘Seriously?’ Monty looks excited like maybe she does have powers.

‘Yeah,’ Clarke nods. ‘I can read minds.’

‘Does that really excuse wearing a cape though?’ Raven presses with a smirk.

‘It’s not a cape.’ Octavia tries to explain.

Clarke interrupts her. ‘Commander, I have super powers right?’

Lexa won’t even know what those words mean but she seems to be happy that Clarke is happy. ‘Yes she does,’ she confirms.

‘Bullshit.’

‘I’ll prove it.’ Clarke gives Lexa a look which she hopes will convey what she’s needing. ‘Raven, think of something, anything at all and tell Lexa what it is. Quietly so I can’t hear.’

Lexa hesitates but Raven moves into her space without pause. Clarke watches the comfortable way Raven leans in and she hopes that Raven’s ease will be common among the skaikru. Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes as Raven whispers her clue. She turns to mutter a question into Raven’s ear but Clarke is watching Lexa's hands. The one resting on her sword-hilt moves to her cheek, brushes down over her thigh then returns to her waist.

Clarke puts the clues together remembering the last time she painted Lexa’s thighs. Lexa nods a subtle confirmation at Clarke’s smile. This was too easy.

‘What is it?’ Monty asks. He is standing right beside Clarke and knows she can’t have heard the whispers that went between them. ‘Do you know the answer?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘It’s a fox. Right?’

Lexa nods and Monty’s mouth drops open. ‘How’d you do that?’

Raven and Octavia share a look like they know exactly how they did that.

//

Lexa is glad to see Clarke smiling so freely. It was moving truly to see so many of her people come out to greet her. They respect Clarke, those with healing scars and the wary look of someone who’s seen the inside of the mountain. She knows that these few at least will follow Clarke anywhere she might lead them.

The girl Monroe returns to the smiling group too soon. ‘Clarke,’ she says in apology. Clarke stiffens at her tone and turns to see the elder Miller following behind her. ‘The council would like you to come to them now.’ The choice of words are obviously Monroe’s own and not the council’s.

Miller is looking at Clarke, judging her as Lexa knows herself to be judged by these skaikru, and he has no right. He and his son are alive because of Clarke. Lexa remains still, hand on the hilt of her sword when he steps forward and holds out his hand. ‘I can lead the way,’ He says. ‘If you wish.’ The offer is calm and honest as if Clarke could truly refuse him, and Lexa relaxes a little.

Clarke agrees and Miller heads toward the open Ark door. She follows close with Monroe and Octavia behind her. Whatever had kept them from Clarke’s side before seems to have gone in the night and now the two girls make their allegiances clear. Clarke remains cautious as they walk through twisted halls, noting her exits and approaching corners with care.

Miller glances back at them but says nothing of their obvious caution. He guides them all to a new meeting room. The table is the same but there’s a skylight above it and more guards line the walls filling the larger room. All the council is seated at the table this time including Clarke’s mother, all looking displeased with being made to wait. Lexa ignores the rising spite which prompts her to leave for another day.

The scene is familiar, but this time Clarke stands with three armed women at her back, and a genuine smile on her lips.

//

Clarke had wanted to ask Octavia and Monroe to wait outside. She is glad that she didn’t when she sees the council lined up behind that ridiculous table. Abbey looks at her like she doesn’t know who Clarke is and she may have to to agree with the assessment. The person she is today has little in common with the girl her mother raised. Most of the council look at her like a stranger, though they've all known her from infancy. She thinks them all stupid. While they pretend she is a stranger, Clarke knows all their strengths and weaknesses and she plans to use that to her advantage.

 

The meeting goes by in a blur of words and secrets, and more than a few lies. Time away has made her more attuned to the little ways a person’s voice can change as they hold back truths. Lexa says little, but is invaluable. She watches the council, alerting Clarke by  small movements and a shifting gaze to opportunities Clarke may otherwise have missed. Clarke does her best to appear motivated only by the needs of her people and resists the growing need to take Lexa’s hand.

After a few hours they reach something of a conclusion. Clarke will represent the Ark in an Audience with the queen, Kane will join her in an advisory capacity. The negotiation of property and trade will be based on Council requests, and approved by Kane not Clarke. Unification with the twelve clans will be put to their people for a vote first but Clarke is sure they will make the right choice. The surviving Arkers are tired of fighting. After years of drifting without a home this alliance offers them a stability they've not seen in generations.

//

For all her strong words and wicked glances, Clarke is drained by her people’s negotiations. She looks rattled and so so tired when they turn to leave. It’s all Lexa can do to follow rather than lift Clarke up and carry her out of the camp. Octavia and Monroe know that Clarke's weakness is not for them to see and they request a dismissal which Lexa grants before guiding Clarke back outside. The air will clear her head and bring her back to herself, Lexa is sure.

She thinks she is sure, but Clarke’s hands are shaking and she stumbles as they walk around the broken edges of the Ark. Lexa guides her along metal walls to a section which twists back and around so they are hidden from the rest of camp. If Clarke is to fall apart she will not do so in front of her people. Clarke fights against panic, looking between her hands, Lexa, and something only she can see. Lexa knows she must keep Clarke from falling apart but doesn’t know how. Clarke is more powerful than she knows, she swayed the emotions of every person in that room like age and experience meant nothing. Without prompting Minnia had applied the Heda insignia to Clarke's clothes, and in every phrase and gesture Clarke earned that honour. 

Lexa acts on instinct, moving in closer. She catches Clarke’s gaze,  grasps at her hips and backs her toward the wall, gentle and guiding. The action is risky in the daylight; sunlit hours are not their time but Lexa will risk rejection for the chance Clarke will come back from the darkness she’s falling into.

‘Lexa?’ Clarke starts but says nothing more as Lexa kisses her.

Lexa feels Clarke’s palms against her and she prepares to pull away but Clarke’s back hits the wall, a grunt falls between them and delicate fingers twist in Lexa’s clothes to pull her closer. Lexa falls into her body gladly, not too ashamed to admit how much Clarke's presence affected her through these last few hours. The more passionate Clarke became, the more Lexa wanted to hold and to have her Skai Prisa.

Lexa releases Clarke’s lips and nudges Clarke’s jaw with her nose to gain access to her neck. Clarke obliges, tilts her head back and pulls Lexa in closer with one hand at her chest while the other holds tight to Lexa's arm. Lexa kisses enough for them both, running wet lips down Clarke’s neck and along her collarbone.

She pulls Clarke’s collar back to gently nip at the bared skin and presses a thigh between Clarke’s legs. The combination draws another noise from Clarke, desperate fingers digging into Lexa’s arm. To avoid a bruise Lexa takes a hold of Clarke’s wrist and presses her arm against the wall. Clarke expression is gleeful, feral, and Lexa knows the distraction has been more than successful. She presses her leg in more firmly and lets her free hand slip under Clarke’s shirt to stroke over the flesh of her stomach.

She’s about to return her full attention to Clarke’s neck but alarmed blue eyes glance over her shoulder and then Lexa is jerked backwards by two strong hands. In a rush of movement Lexa jabs an elbow into her assailant’s chest then grabs at a flailing delicate wrist to wrenche the woman’s arm up and behind her back. Lexa pulls out a knife and kicks at the back of the woman’s knees to trap her on the ground with the blade at her throat.

' _How dare you_ ,’ she growls in Trigedasleng. How dare she tear her away from Clarke? The woman whimpers at the pressure of Lexa’s knife and she feels a satisfaction in the sound until the familiarity of that voice sinks in.

'Mom?’ Clarke confirms her suspicions and Lexa lets go immediately, Abbey Griffin slumping to the ground gasping for air. 'Stars, Mom what were you thinking. She could have killed you.’ There’s no accusation or fear in her words only a statement of fact. 'Sneaking up on us like that –  _I_  could have killed you.’ Lexa frowns but knows the truth.

Abbey sits up rubbing at her wrist and throat while she catches her breath. 'I thought,’ she says and looks at her daughter before shifting her gaze to Lexa. Her cheeks pink as she continues. ’I thought you were in danger. I thought you were being attacked.’

Lexa sees Clarke fight a smile which she rearranges into an incredulous glare. 'You saw me,’ Clarke stops and her skin shows pink even more clearly than her mother's as she considers exactly the position they were in. She looks to Lexa for help but Lexa has no understanding of Clarke’s relationship with her mother and still feels as if she may need to fight someone. She wonders if the Skaikru select champions or if they are honour bound to fight for themselves. She imagines going up against Kane and sheathes her knife to help Abbey to her feet.

The chancellor flinches but Lexa doesn’t withdraw. Abbey looks to Clarke who just shrugs so she has no real choice but to give Lexa her hand.

’Mom?’ Clarke prompts again once she's standing. ’Are you okay?’ Abbey appears dazed and Lexa wonders if she had hit the woman in the head by accident. Clarke sighs. 'I didn’t want you to find out this way.’

'Find out?’ Abbey's composure has been too badly shaken. 'Find out about what, exactly?'

 

Clarke looks down and Lexa realises how much she needs to hear this answer. They haven’t discussed what this thing is between them – what they are. Not in words. In soothing hands and bodies and lips and swinging fists Lexa thinks that they have said so much, but in words she can’t be so sure.

Clarke looks to her for something, for permission. Lexa nods and her heart skips a beat at the returning smile. If Clarke is ready to share what they have with her people then Lexa will stand with her. Proudly. Clarke’s gaze goes back to meet Abbey's. 'Lexa and I,’ she starts.

It’s enough for Abbey to let out a sound like she’s been winded again. 'Clarke.’

Lexa has never heard one word so laced with such disappointment before. It hurts her to hear it and she thinks Clarke must be torn in two by the sound. But instead Clarke laughs. 'Mom,’ she mimics Abbey’s disappointed tone. 'Please understand. I am,’ she stammers over the next word, ‘I'm happy.’ Lexa knows that’s not quite the truth. But she understands that  _happy_  is the truest word that could make Abbey understand Clarke's meaning. And it is a word Lexa could get used to hearing. She hopes that someday happy may be their only truth.


	8. Hold Me, Wrap Me Up II

The words 'Lexa and I,' had slipped so naturally from Clarke that she'd had no time to consider them. But once they were out she felt they were right. Lexa's smile confirmed just how right they were. But Abbey had snatched the moment away before they could enjoy it. Just by saying Clarke’s name in that disappointed tone.

'Why did you follow me?’ Clarke asks as silence stretches out. Abby must be made to understand that what she has with Lexa is good for her, good for all of them. Clarke needs to understand what she's thinking first.

Abbey looks back the way she came as if to remember. 'I haven't seen you in two months, Clarke.’

'You didn't seem that concerned earlier.’ Now the meeting is over she's free to feel the hurt.

Abby’s sadness shows for a moment then is shuttered. 'That was not the time for personal concerns.’

Clarke doesn't know how to read this woman any more. 'And what are our personal concerns, Mom?’

Abby takes a halting breath with tears in her eyes and Clarke can feel her resolve crumbling. 'I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Raven said you would be fine but – but you left with nothing Clarke.’

She moves forward, and Lexa grasps the hilt of her sword but Clarke meets her eyes. Lexa relaxes and Clarke is pulled into a hug tight enough and familiar enough to make her lip tremble. With her Mom’s hand cradling the back of her head she feels warm, tired, sad, happy, and so much like crying. 'Mom I’m sorry,’ she cries. 'I just couldn’t. I couldn't be here.’

’It’s okay, I understand, I know,’ she murmurs and kisses into her hair. ‘I understand.’

Clarke fights back the tears and wins as Abby says she 'knows'. Abby is older than Clarke, she is intelligent, kind and an excellent doctor. But she doesn't understand. She has not made the decisions Clarke has, she never had to. Clarke pulls back from the hug and wipes away tears that have slipped through. 

She takes a deliberate step toward Lexa and clears her throat. 'We will leave once Kane is ready.’ She brings them back to politics and negotiation because it’s easier. Simpler than dealing with her Mom.

Abby’s gaze flicks across the space between Clarke's hand and Lexa's. 'The council are confirming details of the agreement to present.’

Clarke wants to roll her eyes because of course they will have spent the entire afternoon in council only to go over the same words and agreements for days afterward. Lexa’s reaction is more agressive than her own, as she tenses, a hand on her sword. Clarke grabs her wrist before she can take a step, a thumb stroke over the wrist and a small assured smile soothing the Commander.

'You should stay here at the Ark,’ Abby draws their attention and Clarke sees her mother is still watching Clarke's hands on Lexa's wrist. 'There’s likely more to discuss. And,’ She gives a small shrug. 'I'd like to spend some time with you. Before you disappear again.’

Clarke is meant to feel guilty at her words but she doesn't. she glances at Lexa who indicates the decision is hers. 'We will stay.’

'We? Do you—.’

'Yes,’ Clarke interrupts.

'There’s not a lot of room,’ Abbey says. 'But I'm sure we can find a bed for the Commander in—.’

'She'll be with me.’ Clarke's voice is sharp to her own ears.

What ever hope of doubt Abby might have been holding onto disappears and she looks disappointed all over again. She doesn't want to back down, that's clear, but she does. 'Food will be available in an hour or so. Come find the mess for dinner. You need to eat.’ She turns away to walk back into the main camp. 'You’re too skinny.' She rounds the corner and Clarke can’t say anything back without shouting at a wall.

Clarke sighs and Lexa looks at her confused. 'You’re too skinny?’

Clarke smiles and smoothes the confusion from Lexa’s brow with soft fingers. 'That's her way of saying you haven't been taking proper care of me.’

Lexa looks angry at first then confused again. 'But you can take care of yourself. I am not your keeper.’

'No,’ Clarke sighs. 'But skaikru have old fashioned idea sometimes. Especially mothers.’

'So, we’re staying here?’ Lexa taps on the metal wall beside them looking nervous.

'One night. I promise.’

//

  
With time before dinner and nowhere to go they find another quiet corner with space to train. Lexa takes off her shoulder guard and the trailing red fabric attached. Clarke does the same and they drop the bundled red and blue in a pile on the ground. Clarke tugs Lexa in close, presses a kiss to her parted lips and then tugs the thick belt from around Lexa's waist. At the same time Lexa helps Clarke out of some of her own complicated layers, their grins mischievous. They peel off their layers in search of those girls that had danced and played and cared for nothing more than each other's smile.

Once down to civilian basics they take up their places with a few feet between them, and settle into their familiar defensive dance. They don't need to discuss anything as they move without thought. The dance is as natural as breathing, trust and instinct allowing them to move as one.

First, second and third positions flow seamlessly as always except now Lexa names the dance _Shegon_  and marks each transition with a word. 'Won,’ is the first followed by ‘Tu, thri, fou, fai.’ Each word is like a rhythm beat and Clarke feels soothed and content.

The metal of the Ark creaks in the cool evening air, wind churns through the trees, and Lexa’s voice repeats slow, regular, and steady. Clarke remembers a pool of cooling water.

She breathes deep in the sounds of this moment and feels calm.

On their fourth repetition Lexa’s tone becomes playful. She turns to grasp Clarke’s hips, twists and turns her body until Clarke loses balance and has to bat Lexa’s hands away to straighten up. Lexa tangles up Clarke’s arms with her own and, with a skill and speed Clarke hasn't seen before, spins her around and away. Clarke feels a tap on her ass as she stumbles and she’s not sure if it was Lexa’s hand or her boot. Lexa’s Cheeky smile shifts smoothly into an admonishing frown as Clarke glares at her. _Focus, Clarke._  Her eyes are a happy shimmer.

Clarke shakes her head. _You’re incorrigible_  she thinks, not worried about whether Lexa will understand. She turns side on to Lexa as they take up first position. 'Won,’ Clarke says firmly. 'Tu,’ takes them into the next position, ‘Thri,’ Clarke keeps their pace until the last one and repeats the cycle again.

 

'We’re being watched,’ Lexa says without leaving their dance.

'I know.’ Clarke realises as she says it. She’s been aware of Octavia’s steady breathing since the girl first arrived, boots crunching in the gravel as she knelt down to observe their training.

'You a ninja now, Clarke?’ Octavia calls out, not bothering to hide for even a second. She jumps down from what passes as a roof in this ruined section of Ark station.

Clarke shrugs and drops out of position. 'Two months of quiet, you learn to appreciate the little things.’ Not the whole truth but Clarke is grateful when Octavia accepts her explanation without comment, accepts that Clarke is always checking her surroundings, always on the lookout for a threat. Octavia doesn't need to mention it because she’s doing the same thing, even now.

Octavia looks between the two of them. 'So,’ she starts, leaning up on her toes and back to her heels, swinging her hands.

Clarke shares a look with Lexa who nods to take her leave. 'I will go speak with Indra about our intentions to stay.’ Lexa hesitates long enough for Clarke to know it’s as hard for her to leave Clarke as it is for Clarke to watch her go. She walks away without acknowledging Octavia who lowers her gaze in a respectful bow.

Clarke feels immediately irritable. She’s vulnerable, and terribly lonely without Lexa’s warmth right there, and she hates the feeling. ‘What do you need?’ Octavia who is watching her, eyes flicking over her hair and face, clothes and bared arms.

Octavia drops into a fighting stance. 'Hands up, Prisa,’ Compared to Lexa’s perfected frame Octavia’s is obviously sloppy but Clarke is too much of a novice to name the difference. There’s a challenge in Octavia’s eyes but also a plea. She needs Clarke to just go with her on this.

‘Have you been training?’ Clarke takes up the first fighting position.

‘With Lincoln. Indra hasn’t been…’

She doesn’t need to say anymore and Clarke only just holds her balance when Octavia lunges. Clarke drops out of her way and kicks out at the back of her knees. She doesn’t connect but Octavia still has to take a couple steps back to regain her balance. They’re both smiling as they make circles around each other, throwing out quick jabs when they can. Octavia is agile but still wild and gives herself away often. Clarke isn’t as skilled but thanks to Lexa’s training she has a control that Octavia doesn’t.

Octavia lunges again, getting frustrated at Clarke stepping out of her reach. 'Show me what the Commander’s been teaching you, Clarke. Or at least. Just the fighting part okay?’ She winks and Clarke has to fight a blush.

Clarke focuses on her own balance and watches Octavia’s dancing feet. Her opponent shifts left and Clarke reads the change in her posture correctly, swinging out her fist in a quick jab. Octavia stumbles backwards as Clarke connects with her jaw. Clarke keeps her arms up ready for the retaliating blow but it doesn't come. Octavia starts laughing and keeps laughing until Clarke joins in and they both end up in tears, clinging to one another as they fall to sit on the ground.

While they each catch their breath Octavia rubs at her jaw. 'Good left hook, Prisa.’

Clarke ignores the comment staring out past the fence at the shifting trees, painted orange by the setting sun. ’I thought you would still hate me,’ she says her voice smaller than she likes. ’Why don’t you hate me?’

Octavia looks at the ground with a sigh like she’d hoped to avoid this conversation. 'I do hate you.’

'Oh.’ Clarke feels the hurt run through her.

'But I understand,’ Octavia goes on. 'I understand what happened. And sometimes I forget what happened too. It’s like,’ she taps a fist to her chest like there isn't a word for what she's feeling. ‘There’s too much shit happening around us to deliberately hold onto the bad. You know? And. You're a part of my family now.’

Clarke’s emotions are switching too fast. 'One big messed up family?’ She feels a tightness in her chest.

'In one big fucked up world.’ Octavia laughs without humour. 'I mean. At some point I became a grounder warrior, you and my _brother_ became our leaders, and you’re marrying the goddamn Heda of all things. Clearly we’re all up shit creek.’

'Wait what?’ Clarke lifts up her hands to slow things down. 'I'm not marrying anyone.’

'Okay, Princess.’ Octavia doesn't sound convinced. Clarke wonders if her heart will ever slow down or if the fluttery feeling in her stomach will ease. Octavia dismisses her words, making to stand. 'Show me some moves.’ 

Clarke grabs her shoulder. ‘Hold on. Sit and explain what you mean.’

Octavia sits back down with a huff. ‘It’s fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it yet.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ A half truth and Clarke’s voice is higher than it should be. She clears her throat. ‘Okay, obviously there is something but I’m not, I haven’t agreed to—‘ she gets stuck on the word Octavia just released out into the world.

‘A union?’ Octavia offers.

Clarke swallows because that's not any easier to hear. 'No. Not that either.'

‘Does Lexa know that?’ Clarke is still confused enough that Octavia’s expression softens. ‘This,’ she says pointing to the cuff on Clarke’s arm. The silver is burnished a pink gold in the sunset.

‘It’s a piece of jewellery,’ Clarke says, wondering how many half-truths in a day add up to one big lie.

Octavia leans in to twist the band around, examining it closer. 'This isn’t just jewellery, Clarke. It’s like a grounder bonding ring. Incredibly important. Trigedakru carry theirs with them, for the day that they meet…’ She struggles to find a word in their vocabulary. ‘For when they meet their one person. Giving you that, it’s like declaring to everyone with eyes that she considers you her soul mate. That no mater what else happens, her love and fidelity is for you alone. That you are hers.’

'She doesn't own me.’ Clarke's mind is filling with a numb fog.

'Maybe not. But she’s making it very well known that she is yours.’

Clarke struggles to make some sense of this. 'So I’m meant to give her one as well?’

Octavia’s gaze becomes sharp, unreadable. She hesitates, weighing her words. ‘Look, I’m not an expert by any stretch. And not all promises need to be romantic. But if both of you wear the others band... well that’s... Clarke that would be huge.’

‘But I don’t have a band to give.’

‘Certainly not in pure gold.’ Octavia still looks lost as Clarke struggles to give meaning to so many new ideas.

‘Octavia.’ Lexa’s voice makes them both jump.

looking up Clarke sees that Lexa has cleaned away her war paint, only a few black smudges left over her temple. Her eyes are clear and beautiful in twilight, the dark bruises around her eyes only serving to accentuate their colour.

Octavia is first to her feet. ‘Yes, Heda.’ She stands to attention, her back becoming even straighter as Indra comes into view behind her Commander. 'Indra.'

Lexa looks to Clarke who has just enough composure to see the meaning in her eyes. She glances at Octavia to check she will be okay but the young warrior only has eyes for her mentor. Clarke does as she was directed, and gathers the pieces of her and Lexa’s clothing.

The cuff on her arm feels tight.

//

  
Clarke leads Lexa back through the ark to her room so they can leave the more ostentatious elements of their dress behind for dinner. The room is as she left it. Her bed is small but spread with soft linens, she has a desk with papers and charcoal spread across it, and there’s a window of sorts with a view to the sky.

Lexa leans her sword against the wall next to the bed and turns as Clarke attempts to cover her arms and shoulders again. Lexa pull Clarke's hands away, her own helping fingers soothing Clarke's heated skin. She kisses Clarke’s cheek with an  _Are you okay_ on her lips. Clarke shrugs in a way Lexa should understand to mean she can ask again later. Once Clarke is fully dressed Lexa guides her back into the hall and they both follow the noise of people to the mess hall.

 

Once inside the large crowded room, Lexa struggles to appear unfazed. Clarke is more familiar with the cafeteria style and she joins the line first, grabs a plate and serves herself a piece of meat with some kind of roast vegetables. Lexa follows piling her plate so high with food that Clarke can only guess how she could fit it all in. The Arkers around them are staring and Clarke understands why. They have been on strict protein rations for so long it's not occurred to any of them to eat in excess no mater the wealth of resources on the ground. If Lexa notices the staring she doesn’t care, adding a pile of berries to her already full plate.

They pick up cutlery at the end of the line and Clarke realises she hasn’t used a fork in months. She steps out from the queue looks to the top of the room where the council are deep in conversation, likely still going over details from the meeting. Abbey is watching her and she pushes out a chair in invitation. The one chair left at the table. Lexa can see this as well and she shrugs deferring to Clarke's choice again.

Clarke walks away to an empty table, sliding onto the bench seat with room for Lexa beside her. As Lexa sits Abbey leaves her table and with everyone watching walks toward them then past toward the door. Clarke feels little beyond Lexa's comforting warmth as Abbey leaves. The room is quiet but Clarke doesn't care what anyone else thinks. Clarke has done worse things than upset the Chancellor.

Lexa bumps her shoulder and Clarke pushes away the simmering guilt to turn her attention to her plate. She and Lexa both pick up their cutlery to dig in but their elbows knock and they share a playful look. Lexa raises her brow in a challenge that Clarke meets, her hunger forgotten as she slides back on the seat and raises her fork like a sword. Lexa does the same and they launch into a slow motion fork fight, swinging and trying to best each other on the smallest scale. Lexa is smiling just as brightly as Clarke and she grabs at her wrist when Clarke goes in to tickle at her side. Their forks’ prongs lock together forcing a stalemate and Clarke gives in letting Lexa take both pieces to pry them apart.

‘Hey guys,’ Monty drops into the seat opposite them with a plate of food and a notebook. Clarke looks over at him confused for a moment. She’d lost herself in their game but now the sounds of the mess hall come back and she realises that everyone is staring at them again.

Lexa drops Clarke’s liberated fork by her plate and starts eating without a care, half with her own fork and half with her hands. Clarke nods a greeting to Monty. ‘Why is everyone looking at us?’ she asks, half knowing the answer.

Monty responds around a mouthful of potato, ‘You’re both smiling. It’s like a solar eclipse or something. Dangerous to look at but too rare to look away.’ Clarke hates the analogy but Lexa just agrees like it makes perfect sense. Monty looks around them, toward the door and startles. ‘Watch out, Hurricane Raven coming through.’

Clarke and Lexa both follow his eyes to the door. Lexa stands from the table abruptly as Raven stalks toward them – toward Lexa with anger burning in her eyes. ‘Raven, what are you—?’ Clarke lets out a yelp as Raven gets too close and slams a fist into Lexa's jaw. Lexa, still with her arms by her sides, turns away from the punch so it’s only a glancing blow but she draws her knife as she turns back and the entire room goes quiet. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Clarke shouts.

Raven is still facing Lexa with tense shoulders and half raised fists while Lexa is glancing between Raven and Clark. Lexa's posture is defensive but wary like she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but she can’t do nothing either. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demands.

‘Raven,’ Clarke says again while silently begging Lexa to let her handle this. 

Raven appears conflicted.'I don't completely know,’ she admits, still facing to Lexa. ‘I was having a fine old afternoon wrist deep in a nearly working carburettor, but Abbey came into my lab crying and not making a lot of sense. And I was left with a general feeling that I should hit you. And maybe Clarke. But Clarke saved my life and Doc wouldn't like that. So. Yeah. Hitting.’ She glances back at Clarke, stands up straighter and drops her arms. She sits down next to Monty.  She nods in greeting to Clarke. 'Princess.’ She appears both justified and still confused.

Lexa glares the room of the Arkers back into minding their own tables then relaxes. The buzz of talking and cutlery-on-plates resumes and Raven steals a potato off Monty’s plate. She looks at Clarke as she pops the chip into her mouth. 'Sorry I hit your girlfriend, or whatever.’ 

Clarke is attempting silent persuasion, trying Lexa to drop the knife, and almost doesn't hear her. When she registers what Raven said her heart trips, restarts and she chokes on her spit.

Lexa immediately puts the knife down with a look asking Clarke if she’s okay.

Clarke tries to appear at ease, spearing a piece of meat on her fork and shoving it into her mouth. 'I’m fine.’

Lexa isn’t convinced. 'I promise I won't kill your friend,’ she says in a voice earnest enough to break hearts.

Raven tilts her head looking at Lexa. 'Gee thanks, Commander Heart Eyes.’

Clarke chokes on her food again bringing fresh tears to her eyes. She accepts some water from Monty as Octavia joins their table with a plate of food that she's already wolfing down through a persistent smile. Clarke is still recovering, with Lexa's gentle hand between her shoulder blades, so she can't make any words but she looks at Lexa.

Lexa smiles and asks the question on Clarke’s behalf. 'Your discussion went well?’ 

Octavia gulps down her food to reply. 'Yes, Heda. I will be returning to tend your horses tonight.’ She looks so happy to be tending horses. ‘And I wanted to say, Heda. Thank you.’

’The decision was not mine. But I am glad for you,’ Lexa concedes. ‘Octavia Kom Trikru.’

Octavia tries and fails to school her expression as she goes back to her food wearing an all consuming grin.

Bellamy and Monroe join their table next forcing Clarke to shuffle down the bench for everyone to fit. When Miller joins them she almost has to sit in Lexa’s lap. With no space between them Lexa slips her hand under the table to rest on her knee. Clarke doesn't react except to glance briefly at Lexa with a half smile. They settle into one another more, enjoying each other's warmth until the food is done and their plates are cleared. Long after the meal, her people stay, laughing and telling jokes their scars are hardly visible. Lexa watches Clarke with a contented smile while Clarke pretends not to notice.

Monty starts making bad food puns and Monroe adds her own, branching out into engineering jokes. Raven interrupts with, ’Fork you, Mon. find a river to build your own dam puns.’  

Lexa’s complete confusion makes everything even funnier and in all the mess and confusion of her return Clarke finally feels something like happiness settle deep in her heart.

//

Soon, Clarke pulls Lexa away from a discussion with Monroe on best blade care. In a few days they will need to leave for Polis but for now they have nowhere to be and Clarke doesn't plan on wasting their respite.

Back in Clarke's old room with the door shut firmly behind them they undress between kisses. Attempting to remove her own top Clarke gets caught in the layers. They laugh and Lexa helps her redress in order to undress. With the shirt thrown aside Clarke feels free and content, Lexa's gentle gaze a balm to the night's earlier stresses. Lexa's kiss promises Clarke a lesson in grounder attire in the morning while firm hands assure her she won’t be needing clothes for many hours yet. 

Clarke flinches at a sound from the hallway, and she turns to drag her desk chair against the door handle. Lexa looks like she understands, like she wants to destroy anything that could bring Clarke to harm.

Clarke is the first to pull Lexa into a kiss but Lexa is the one to take control backing Clarke into the wall and sending a thrill straight to her core. Lexa’s naked chest feels hot against Clarke's front, contrasting with cold metal at her back. She licks at Lexa's lips as she runs her hands down Lexa’s back gasping and sighing at the feel of Lexa’s lips on her jaw.

Scars crisscross the skin under Clarke's wandering hands but they can't hide the rippling strength of Lexa’s shoulders. The rough edges can't disguise the hard muscles of Lexa's back as she pulls Clarke firmly against her. Clarke moves her hands around Lexa’s hips to untie the string on her waistband but Lexa grunts and pushes her hands away, grabbing both Clarke’s wrists to press her arms to the wall. Lexa gives her wrists a soft squeeze, a signal to leave them there. Clarke feels her body thrum in response, an strong echo from before.  

Lexa trails her hands back over Clarke’s hips, eliciting a deep groan as her thigh falls between Clarke’s legs. Clarke could swear she feels a smirk on Lexa’s lips as she grazes kisses along Clarke’s collar bone, down her sternum, and across her breast. It's infuriating how easily Lexa can read her body – incredible, and infuriating. Her nose slides up the side of Clarke’s breast distracting from her hands unbuckling Clarke's belt. The last of her clothes hit the floor and Clarke now naked kicks them away tangling her fingers in Lexa’s hair, breathing in sharply at the feel of Lexa’s tongue flicking over her breast, lips embracing a nipple with soft scraping teeth. Lexa doesn’t brush Clarke’s hands away from her this time, shifting her own grip to Clarke’s backside as she continues to work her tongue.

'Fuck,' Clarke has no control over her vocabulary as every inch of her skin is stimulated, as she loses any reference for where she is or who she is. All she can think or feel is  _Lexa_ and _pleasure_ and _mine_.

Lexa mumbles something back in Trigeda, pulls her lips away from Clarke’s breast with a final luxurious lick and stands to her full height. She pulls them from the wall, turns Clarke around and pushes with gentle hands. Clarke lets herself fall onto the bed and scoots up to the pillows. She glances down from Lexa’s hungry eyes as naked perfection is revealed by frantic hands shoving her pants off her hips. Lexa trips out of the pile of clothes and follows Clarke to the bed, crawling up the sheets and over Clarke’s body in quick awkward movements that make them both smile. Commander Heart Eyes indeed. Lexa settles with a leg between Clarke’s, her chest against Clarke’s chest and her lips hot against Clarke’s neck. _You are safe_ her hands say and Clarke knows that it's true.

With Lexa pressed into her, breath harsh and rapid in her ear Clarke feels like they are back alone in the wilds again. Lexa must feel the slowing of Clarke's hips and she pulls back to look down at her. Illuminated by a pale sliver of light from the hall Lexa is radiant, gaze filled with longing and avid affection. Clarke feels loved in that moment, both wanted and wanting as emotion burns in her chest. She feels three little words on the tip of her tongue, takes a breath to release them into the dark but Lexa steals that breath and those words of love away with a kiss, her thumb brushing over Clarke’s breast in a consuming distraction.

Lexa nips Clarke's lips with sharp teeth and shifts her body down, hip sinking in to where her thigh had been. She kisses Clarke’s shoulder, her breast, and shifts again to kiss Clarke's hip, soft and wet. Finally Lexa crawls down far enough to settle on her belly between Clarke's thighs. All Clarke can do is stare, consumed by want and feeling as heat spreads through her body. They haven’t crossed this line before but there’s nothing separating them now. There's nothing between them except trust and heat, and when Lexa asks permission Clarke grants it gladly.

Lexa dips her head with a smile and loops her arms under Clarke’s thighs to run her hands up her hips to her breasts. When their eyes lock she licks from Clarke’s hip to pubic bone then down into slick heat. Lexa's eyes flutter closed, she moves her tongue, and doesn’t let up until Clarke’s body is shivering and folding over with release.

//

In the dark, hours later Clarke traces soft fingers over the marks on Lexa's skin. Lexa feels her touch both on and under her flesh, bringing goosebumps to the surface. Clarke asks her about scars from long ago and about scars from wars just recently won. Each mark has a story and Lexa is glad that words can flow so freely between them. Clarke smiles at some of her tales, tears springing to her eyes at others.

Lexa shares her scars as unreservedly as she shares her heart because she is Clarke’s. No matter the hurts this world may bring them she knows this to be true. And when Lexa holds her sleeping Skai Prisa – blonde head on her chest, legs tangled together – Lexa thinks that maybe Clarke might also be hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lexa is a teen disaster

In the morning Lexa wakes her early. Clarke feels a kind of sated, animal ache soaking her body and the last thing she wants to do is leave their bed. But Lexa is making one last trip to TonDC and Clarke has agreed to go with her. Her work is official, and Lexa assures her with a kiss, very dull.

They ride together, the trip easy and Lexa's smile is unbroken by the healing cut to her lip. The bruises on her face have mostly faded. Even the deeper cuts Clarke had worried over are on their way to healing so Lexa is free of warpaint when she joins TonDC’s leaders for their ceremonies.

 

Leaving Lexa to her duties, Clarke wanders alone through the streets of the rebuilding town. She hums along to the forest sounds that followed her through the gates. There are many people here that bear marks from The Mountain’s attack, but the people, the children are still smiling. She’s surrounded by new homes, new hope, life and love, and the scars on Clarke’s heart remain closed, healing. Her nightmares will remain – she thinks for many years – and she can bear them, can withstand the night terrors knowing these children can grow with love and laughter in their lives.

The sky people could not destroy them.

The mountain will not destroy her either.

Her feet lead her to the tailor’s hut, smells of fresh meat and red hot metal mix in with freshly tanned hides and she longs to feel Lexa’s hand wrapped around her own, but Clarke doesn’t need her here no matter how she wants her to be.

Lexa taught her some small phrases before they left the ark, as Clarke applied healing balms to the bruises on her face and abdomen. Lexa gave her the Trigeda words as a gift for Minnia and she means to deliver them. She pushes past hanging fabrics to find the tailor bent over her work bench marking chalk on dark fabric. Minnia doesn’t look up or pay her any mind.

‘I came to thank you.' Clarke fiddles with one end of the fabric Minnia is working on and receives a slapped wrist for her trouble. Clarke laughs. _‘I want to thank you.’_ She says again, pronouncing the Trigedasleng words as clear as she can. ‘ _The clothes you made for me – perfect.’_ She stumbles and Minnia pins her with a reproachful look.

 _‘Are perfect,’_ the stern woman corrects.

 _‘My clothes are perfect,’_ Clarke agrees. ‘Mochof.' 

Minnia looks her over and Clarke feels as if she’s in a full body scanner. She wonders for a moment how her scans might differ now from those done on the ark a year ago. The tailor rolls her eyes as she sees Clarke’s distraction. She puts down her scissors, disappears then returns carrying a long, dark case. Minnia pushes it into Clarke’s hands and goes back to work.

‘Thank you,’ Clarke says again, not expecting any reply. She weighs the case in her hands, it’s hard under the leather and heavy. Minnia has made the Skai Prisa a scabbard to match her new clothes. ‘I don’t have a sword,’ she tries to explain.

Minnia chatters in Trigedasleng and gestures for her to go outside. Clarke looks out the door but doesn’t understand.

‘Smith,’ Minnia grunts out. She mimes hammering against the table to be sure she gets it.

 

The smith is a massive man, head and shoulders taller than Bellamy or even Lincoln and twice as broad. He glares at her as if whatever she might ask of him will cause certainly personal grief. She thinks about hiding the scabbard behind her back so she won’t make even an implicit request.

‘Klark?’ The crease between his eyebrows deepens and Clarke considers lying.

‘Sha?’ she nods.

The giant man’s face transforms, clears and brightens with a sun-bright smile. ‘Klark Heda Kom Skai Kru.’ The formal title is punctuated by his reaching for a high shelf. He brings his hands up between them, chin tucked in a respectful bow, a sword sure to fit her new scabbard cradled across both his massive palms. He talks then in long, smiling sentences that lose meaning after the word gift.

She says thank you, but he shakes his head bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning. He almost hops on the spot when she takes the sword. Before she can hurt herself she pushes the blade into the scabbard. She tries to thank him again but he’s already back to his work, whistling the same tune Clarke was humming before.

Both sword and scabbard are meade for her and still the weight of it feels strange. The Sword’s cross-guard is bronzed like the buckles on her new coat and the grip fits perfectly in her hand, the leather soft against her palm. Looking closer she can see patterns etched into the flat edge of the guard and extending up the blade. It's beautiful and she finds herself thumbing the edge of Lexa's band hidden under the long sleeves of her shirt. This TonDC smith doesn't have quite the skill as whoever crafted Lexa's cuff, but Clarke still wonders what she would need to trade to have a cuff of her own crafted.

A child's laughter nearby pulls her from her thoughts and she remembers with a small shake of her head that not only is her understanding of the band's meaning incomplete, the significance of that meaning is not a part of her history.

She thinks of the steel ring her mom still wears on her finger. Any gold on the ark had long been scrapped for electrical repairs, and steel as a metal of ceremony made more sense to them and their history than gold in any case.

Clarke walks away, still thinking of etched stars filling a steel horizon.

//

Sitting cross legged on Lexa’s bed, Clarke holds her new sword in its scabbard across her lap. She knows better than to leave the blade bare especially dressed as she is in light cottons borrowed from Lexa’s chest of clothes.

When Lexa finds her in their tent, she brightens with an affectionate smile. Shrugging out of her heavy warrior gear, she folds everything away with calm, practiced movements. Clarke admires the way her arms flex and Lexa must feel her watching because she's hiding a grin, her ears pink with a blush. Lexa unbuckles her sword finally and Clarke wonders why she carried it for the ceremony.

In a strange mental leap, she imagines what it would be like to welcome Lexa home if she were just an ordinary girl and Clarke had never been born in the sky. She fights back a laugh imagining herself as Lucile Ball in a puffy skirt. Maybe she can convince Lexa that _Honey I'm Home_ is a traditional SkaiKru greeting.

Feeling playful, Clarke settles for asking, 'Long day, honey?' She exaggerates an accented twang.

Lexa looks up. 'Dull,' she sighs, confused but happy to play along with Clarke's game if she can. 'I would not choose to attend if I wasn't required.' She strips off her thick black pants and replaces them with pale linen ones before she finally moves to kneel in front of Clarke on the bed. 'I am glad to be with you.'

Clarke laughs at the joy such small words can bring and Lexa takes her cheeks in both hands to kiss her soundly. Pushed off balance, she has no choice but to grab onto Lexa’s shoulders, pulling them together as she falls onto her back. Lexa laughs, the sound bright and playful when their foreheads bump and she accidentally bites Lexa's lip. Clarke wonders when she lost her previous hesitation, wonders when Lexa became all that she needed.

After one last kiss Lexa leans back, settling more comfortably against her. 'How was your day?' She mimics Clarke's tone exactly to add, 'Honey?' with a grin.

Clarke is grinning too when she shrugs with one shoulder. 'Oh you know, the neighbours want to shift the fence over two inches, but I just couldn't possibly move the hydrangeas. And Stephanie arrived late for brunch _again_. The usual.'

Lexa's eyes shine as she leans in to bump her nose into Clarke's.

With a thumping heart and in her own voice Clarke iterates the simple truth, 'I'm glad to be with you too.'

Clarke knows that however this easy affection happened doesn't matter anymore. Lexa is hers, and she is Lexa's. Clarke smoothes soft fingertips over Lexa's brow then her cheeks, and Lexa nuzzles into her palm. Another joyful laugh runs between them and she kisses her again just because she can.

Sighing, Lexa tries to move so her hip will fall into soft furs instead of into Clarke’s thigh but she winces, met by a hard sword instead of soft bedding. She reaches between them, her movements awkward as she fully embodies the lazy teenager that only Clarke gets to see her commander be.

With a final grunt, Lexa pulls the sheathed sword out from under her hip, holding it between them with a question. Clarke shrugs and Lexa accepts her non-answer drawing the blade from its scabbard a few inches. Clarke’s alarm must show because Lexa puts it away, the snick of hilt hitting leather a strange sort of comfort.

Lexa looks worried, more worried than she needs to be.

'It doesn't bother me when you have a sword,' Clarke explains. "The thought of carrying one of my own... seems strange." She doesn't know how exactly to explain that feeling but she doesn't need to.

Lexa reads so much in her eyes, meaning shared both ways that she has to wonder if there could be any secrets between them anymore.

Lexa wraps her arms more firmly around her waist, head on Clarke's shoulder. Clarke accepts Lexa's comfort and understanding, feeling warmer with each moment shared. When Lexa lets her go, she sits up, steps away from the bed and nods for Clarke to follow. Clarke does, of course following her out of their tent and into the woods, Lexa with two swords in her hand.

 

Lexa walks further than Clarke would ever have on her own and she’s short of breath before they stop. She receives a stern look for the amount of noise that she makes and Clarke shrugs, asking why it matters. Lexa can’t answer with just a look so she points to Clarke’s feet, then to her own because Clarke needs to practice stealth some time; Lexa taps a finger against Clarke’s chest then lays a hand over her own heart. She gestures, slow and steady, _walk where I walk_.

Clarke understands and quiets her steps then her breathing as best she can. She wants to learn and the hidden laugh at the corner of Lexa’s lips isn’t something she could resist even if she didn’t.

Not much further in, Lexa finds the meadow she was looking for. It’s not quite their clearing but there’s a small waterfall flowing into a stream at one end with crowds of wildflowers on all sides; it is beautiful. Clarke links their fingers and they walk, hand in hand to the falls.

When they’ve quenched their thirst Clarke takes Lexa’s hand again, embracing their solitude with open affection. Lexa kisses her fingers because she can and Clarke pulls them into a pool of afternoon sunlight. The kisses they lose themselves in are slow, languid and soft.

Before she can forget why they're here Lexa breaks away to draw both swords from their scabbards. She holds out Clarke's hilt first but Clarke doesn’t take it, her gaze flitting from hilt to blade to Lexa’s eyes and back again. Both swords drop to her sides and Lexa takes a step back into Clarke’s space.

When Clarke leans in, Lexa wraps her up and presses every ounce of love and comfort she can into a chaste, gentle kiss. Clarke calms under her lips, her shoulders losing their tense hold. She pulls back and _I trust you,_ is clear in Clarke’s gaze.

A burst of warmth floods Lexa's chest. ‘You are safe’ she says.

Clarke nods, but her lips are trembling.

Lexa knows why she doesn’t carry her gun anymore. ‘The more you learn, the safer you will be.’ Clarke scoffs, but Lexa forces her to meet her eyes as she says in a sure voice. ‘The more control you have, the safer your opponent will be.’ She know’s her words are a gamble, but it's one that pays off as Clarke takes a deep breath.

‘They are safer.’

Though it isn’t a question, Lexa nods anyway. ‘There’s no trigger on a blade.’ She holds up the sword again and Clarke takes it in shaking hands. Lexa steps back, holds up her sword at shoulder height, blade parallel to the ground with her feet apart. ‘Won,’ she says and Clarke shifts into first position. 

They shift into second, third and fourth positions and Lexa can't help but watch Clarke, her own posture becoming sloppy. Clarke knows this dance so well already that she incorporates the blade without instruction. Lexa remembers being small – how heavy her sword was, how hard it was to lift over her head.

'Arms up,' Clarke says playfully on their fourth run through. She looks happy again, calm and at ease with the control she has over her body, over the sword in her hands. The movements for defence come naturally to her.

Lexa remember when she was young she found defence was the hardest to master. Even surrounded as she is now by light and warmth, she can still hear Anya's voice. _Arms up_ , Anya had to say over and over. _You're not a pauna with a stick, Lexa. Focus._ Lexa had stomped her feet in boots too big for her and Anya had laughed. When Lexa cried frustrated tears Anya didn't hold her, but she was patient as she taught Lexa how to find strength from within.

'Focus,' Lexa mutters aloud without meaning to. Her voice is soft but still draws Clarke's attention.

There are arms around her before she knows she has dropped her sword, and Clarke holds her tight, warm and firm. Lexa's cheeks are wet, her shoulders are shaking and a startling sob rips through her throat before she realises.

Clarke doesn't ask her what's wrong. She just holds her, Lexa's tears staining her shirt. The sun has lost its warmth before Clarke pushes back to meet Lexa's eye.

 _You are not weak,_ her eyes say.

Lexa can't seem to stop crying. _They cannot see you grieve,_ a remembered young Anya tells her. 

Clarke's tight, comforting hold says so much more. _They cannot see you grieve, but you are safe with me._

'Costia?' Clarke asks carefully after a while. Lexa can't explain. It turns out she doesn’t have to because Clarke can already guess. 'Anya.' She doesn't need Lexa's shaky nod – she understands the truth of her feelings by touch alone.

The tears still won't stop and Lexa tries to explain. ‘When Costia was taken, Anya was there. She didn’t give promises, just having her there was more comfort than I can—' She laughs, but it comes out as a sob. ‘The only time she hugged me.’

Clarke’s smile is gentle, sincere. ‘That must have been an experience.’

Lexa elbows Clarke's ribs before sniffing against the back of her wrist. ‘Affection is not natural for her.’ She pauses, fresh tears falling. ‘ _Was_ not natural,’ she corrects, voice hoarse with the ache in her chest.

‘You loved her.’ Clarke’s voice is heavy with the grief Lexa feels.

She nods. 'Not as I loved Costia. Not as I—' she’s cut off by a sob and her mind catches up to her words. ‘Not as I love my people,' she goes on. 'Different.’ She glances up and thinks Clarke knows the words Lexa can't say. But she is still there, still holding her hand, pushing her hair back from damp cheeks.

Clarke understands.

Lexa sniffs. ‘I miss her,’ she admits, grief and mourning and sorrow flowing out with her words.

Hugging her again, Clarke kisses her lips, then her jaw. 'The dead are gone,' she says. 'The living remember them.'

 _The dead are gone._ Anya had told her that. She feels her tears slow and then stop.

Lexa tries to wipe the mess of tears away with her sleeve, but mostly makes it worse. Leaning back, she can see Clarke’s heartbreak and can’t imagine what she must look like, weeping and broken with snot and tears covering her face. Clarke's compassionate smile reaches her heart, almost makes her feel whole again.

Clarke swipes at some tears from Lexa’s cheeks, her eyes narrowing at the same sense of futility Lexa already encountered. She doesn’t offer her own sleeve but she does take command of Lexa’s, selecting cleaner stretches of fabric to wipe under her nose and dry her cheeks. Her smile brightens when Lexa chuckles through a grimace.

‘That’s not very nice.’ Lexa’s voice is still rough with tears.

‘I think the word you’re looking for is gross,’ Clarke laughs.

‘I am gross?’

‘Disgusting,’ Clarke sighs. ‘Absolutely snotfaced,’ she adds with a grin to make Lexa laugh, the sound full and real. She strokes slow fingers over Lexa's cheeks, voice just as soft as her touch. 'However did you get so hideous?

The way Clarke looks at her makes Lexa feel beautiful.

//

That night they return to the ark too exhausted for anything more than sleep. They undress one another still; Lexa lets her fingers linger over the cuff on Clarke’s arm as she always does and Clarke bites back the questions she’s wanted to ask. Now is not the time to ask why. Togethrt they find those girls from the clearing again, the ones with nothing to worry about but the day ahead of them. They crawl into the soft cotton sheets and Lexa curls in on herself accepting, for the first time, Clarke's comforting hold.

When Lexa's breathing becomes slow Clarke falls into sleep fast behind her. Clarke dreams of their clearing, she dreams of the stars and then she dreams of Maya. She dreams of Dante Wallace and of Atom, the first boy she killed on the ground.

In her dream Maya takes her hand. Skin soft, smooth and showing more colour than she remembers.

‘You deserved better,’ Clarke says. She wants Maya to understand, wants all the men and women whose deaths mark her heart and her spirit to understand.

’None of us is innocent,’ Maya says.

Clarke shakes her head. ‘Terrible last words.'

’True. But it doesn't matter. The dead don't regret their last words.’

‘What do you regret?’

Clarke wakes without an answer, shaking, crying and longing for the soft sounds of wind through trees.

Lexa has turned to hold her tightly in sleep and Clarke tucks deeper into her arms, skin clinging in their nakedness.

She listens to her heartbeat.

A lifetime of war couldn’t take this life away.

 

In the morning when Lexa wakes, all soft lips and warm green eyes, Clarke asks her, 'How were you able to come find me?' It's something she’s wondered for a while and content as she is, with nowhere to go, morning sun warming the room, she wonders. 'How was the Commander allowed to just disappear?’ She chews the inside of her lip searching for a way to clarify her question. ‘How can you just choose to stay?’

’How could I choose you, do you mean?’ Lexa runs her fingertips over Clarke’s bare shoulders, skimming past the band of gold.

Clarke’s heart stutters, but she still can’t ask. The easier questions come first. ’How can you choose anyone. I'd imagined — obligations would keep you. That your people come first, so romantic entanglements are… frowned upon?’

Lexa’s amused smile is gentle, content. ’So formal,' she teases, threading her fingers through Clarke's hair.

Clarke pokes Lexa’s side with a blunt finger. ’You know what I mean.’

Lexa sighs. ’A leader cannot always have what she wants. But. The earth is not kind. If I don’t indulge in what I want now, only to die tomorrow what is gained by my sacrifices? My people know I will protect them.' She leaves the memories of the mountain unmentioned. "When they are safe, my time can be my own.’

_What do the dead regret?_

Lexa kisses her shoulder and Clarke has to wonder, if she dies tomorrow, is there something she should have taken for herself today? Lexa lies next to her, lower half wrapped in a tangle of sheets, body bathed in sunshine falling through the narrow skylight. She glows warm, her tattoos contrasting so darkly under the skin that Clarke can't help but touch them.

 _I’m glad to have you,_ she thinks, knowing there’s nothing she might have in this moment that isn't right here.

Lexa’s smile is somehow both bold and shy as she leans in to kiss Clarke’s lips. ‘I am glad as well.’

Clarke presses into the kiss, hard and urgent enough to leave Lexa panting. As Clarke pulls back with a wicked grin Lexa’s glare is ruined by a deep blush.

She trails her fingers from Lexa’s neck and over one breast, enjoying how Lexa flinches and gasps at the touch. She trails her fingers down over vines and knotted lines that are drawn into the skin of Lexa’s belly, her waist and between her hips. Lexa grabs her wrist swearing in Trigeda and Clarke thinks she hears the word tease.

‘Can you tell me what these mean?’ Clarke pulls her hand loose and straddles Lexa’s thighs, the blankets falling around her hips as she runs insistent fingers back over Lexa's belly. Lexa’s eyes go wide and her hands are drawn to Clarke's thighs. Playful eyes follow wandering fingers. ‘This vine here,' Clarke's touch is just firm enough not tickle though Lexa squirms anyway. ‘The leaves wrap around three...cubes?’ She taps the boxes stacked between hip and lower rib.

Lexa takes a deep steadying breath. ‘My house. Father, mother and brother. The vine is Heda, her spirit protecting them.’

‘This vine is everywhere,’ Clarke comments, proving her point by tracing her fingertips where the dark lines wander, including around and under Lexa’s thighs.

‘Heda is not just—‘ Lexa's voice cuts off with a gasp, her pupils blown wide, fingers digging into Clarke’s hips.

‘Not just what?’

At Clarke's insistent words, Lexa swears under her breath again then continues. ‘Heda is more than a title, more than one spirit. The Commander is a human vessel.’ She frowns as if the word isn’t correct but can’t focus enough to find the right one. ‘She is a vessel for the spirit of all things. The Earth, she—' another trembling breath catches on Lexa’s words as Clarke moves so that her thigh falls between Lexa’s legs.

‘Mmm,’ Clarke hums.

Lexa has a warrior's focus and incredibly keeps her words even as Clarke rocks against her. 'She is all. She protects all. The Earth, she protects Trigedakru, the woods, those animals not tainted by our war, the—' Her breath hitches at a new pressure Clarke applies with wandering fingers to the scar marked skin of her upper thigh.

Clarke is just as worked up by the teasing as Lexa is. She gives up on pretending, gives up on keeping any distance and rocks herself down against Lexa's naked thigh.

Lexa shivers, hard fingers jerking their hips together, her desperate shivering groan matched by Clarke's. Hands recommence their wandering, grabbing, and teasing of their own accord and Clarke tries to remember what Lexa was saying. She's interested, she is, but Lexa is lifting her knee in a rhythm that Clarke can't ignore. 'The sky?’ Clarke suggests, her voice desperate. 'The earth protected the Sky?'

‘Hmm?’ Lexa's head falls back on the pillows as her hands wander over Clarke’s hips, her stomach, and breasts. ‘Yes, the sky as well. Once her sky people are made of the earth again, they will be under her protection.’

A shiver runs up Clarke's spine. ‘Your protection?’ She breathes out the question in a husk meant to dismantle whatever control Lexa has left. She nibbles on her ear, lets one hand drift down over jutting hips, lower to dip into soaking heat. Lexa grunts at the firm movements of Clarke’s fingers, then grasps her face with both hands so she can find her eyes.

‘Yes, my protection,’ she says and demands without words that Clarke stop her teasing. Their lips connect again as Clarke slips two fingers inside. She doesn't stop until Lexa falls into unconsciousness again with her hand still caught between them.

//

Well into the morning Lexa is feeling smug, sitting on the bed flipping through a book she found on Clarke’s bedside. Clarke is still a little red faced, straightening out her clothes from Lexa’s latest sneak attack and clearly considering one of her own when there’s a knock on the door. Clarke glances at her to see if she should answer it and Lexa shrugs. She would gladly see no other people for the rest of the day but she knows that is unlikely to happen.

There’s another impatient rap and then Raven calls out. ‘Hey, Nymphos you know I rewired these doors and I can open them from the outside if I have to.’ Raven taps the door with what must be her boot. ‘Open up.’

Clarke rolls her eyes when Lexa mouths the word ‘Nympho?’ in question. She doesn’t know the word but she can probably guess.

‘Look guys, just put some clothes on and open the door. I’d rather not see you naked.’ Raven starts pressing buttons on the inoperable keypad outside in a clear threat. ‘Well, If the commander decides to leave her shirt off, I won’t complain. But, Clarke, Princess we all know you have a banging bod but I’d rather you be clothed right now.’

Lexa gives Clarke a _she’s your friend_ look and Clarke lets out a breathy laugh before pulling the chair away from the door to open it wide. It’s so bright in the hallway she has to squint against the glare.

‘Finally.’ Raven looks too amused to be annoyed. ‘Jeez, I knew sex hangovers could be a thing, but you look like you got dragged backwards up sex mountain and dropped off the edge of carnal cliff.’

Clarke looks over at Lexa to confirm that she doesn’t look that bad but Lexa keeps her eyes on the book she doesn’t understand, hiding her smirk.

Clarke tries to flatten out her hair. ‘Carnal cliff?’

Raven watches their silent exchange with a pained expression. ‘Alliterations are on point. And if you two are done mind melding we got places to be. More accurately I’ve got places to be that smell like engine grease instead of sex. Crack a window will you?’

‘You fixed the air filters yourself, Raven. There is no such smell. Now why are you here insulting my living space instead of making mad passionate science with your Engineer?’

‘Please, that man-child is old news. And the good Doctor Griffin Superior needs you and Commander Heart-Eyes to come up for air. Council’s done making decisions for us plebs; you’re free to go.’

Lexa feels a rush of relief, glad to take Clarke out of this cage.

Clarke’s feelings about Abby though, are too close to the surface for relief. ‘And she couldn’t have come herself?’

‘Well I could have made her come,’ Raven’s wink is so obvious that Lexa lets out a huff of laughter.

‘Ew.’ Clarke turns back at Lexa’s laugh. ‘And you can can go weeks without a peep but Raven’s depraved sex jokes are just too funny?’

The accusation is laced with enough humour that Lexa just smiles.  _Y_ _ou love it._

Clarke’s eyes shine bright enough to confirm that she does and she’s still grinning as she turns back to Raven. ‘The council’s in the same place?’

She shakes her head. ‘Abby’s in the hospital.’ Raven indicates down the hallway with a backwards thumb. ‘Need directions?’

Clarke shakes her head. ‘Have fun with your engine grease.’ She starts to close the door but Lexa puts the book aside and gets up to stop her. Raven is fidgeting; playing with the end of her shirt, and pulling open frayed holes in the fabric.

‘Is there something else?’ Lexa keeps her voice low, hands visible and open at her sides.

Raven glances down the hallway. ‘I can’t—‘ she cuts herself off with a frown then starts again. ‘The truth is... I can’t stay here. If you’re going to Polis…’ She trails off, annoyed.

‘You want to come with us?’ Clarke can see what she had missed before but still sounds surprised.

Glancing up to meet Clarke’s eyes then Lexa’s, Raven admits, ‘Yeah.’ She stands straighter, her confidence returning now she’s said what she needs to. ‘The Ark isn’t for me any more. It’s like—‘ she cuts off again but Lexa understands.

So does Clarke. 'It doesn’t feel right.’ She glances at Lexa before saying, ‘Yes. Of course you should come with us.’

//

Clarke finds Abby in medical. She’s more uncomfortable than ever and Clarke has to concede that maybe she and Lexa were more obvious than they thought. With an apologetic look she suggests that Lexa meet her outside and Abby looks so relieved that Clarke feels the spiteful urge to call her back again.

Seeing the frown, Abby sighs and Clarke knows she’s about to say something awful or embarrassing. ‘I’m aware that you’re an adult now, Clarke-‘

Clarke groans and leans against the wall behind her. ‘I hope you know I’m an adult since, you know, a certain mechanic is only a year older than me.’ She had just meant to rile Abby up, maybe see if Raven’s talk was anything more than talk; she didn’t expect to see her mother blush. Her own grimace is childish enough she’s sure to have demolished any pretense of professional distance. ‘Mom, really?’

Abby turns her back on Clarke to sort through the already well organised supply cabinet. ‘When you go through so much with someone…’ she trails off, and glances back with a shrug. ‘We understand each other.’ Her hands pause on the cabinet shelf, her head tilted in thought before the turns around again with a small laugh.

Clarke matches her mother’s smile thinking of Lexa, and Abby’s next laugh is a loud startling bark. ‘What?’ Clarke starts laughing too though she doesn’t understand.

Abby seems to have experienced some kind of epiphany. ‘ _She_ understands _you_.' She points out the way that Lexa just left. ‘You’ve been through so much. Together.’

‘Yes?’ The word comes out like a question. Except, now she might know what Abby is talking about. Lexa understands Clarke just as Abby and Raven understand one another.

Once Clarke starts laughing, neither of them can stop. They push away from their opposing walls, and meet one another in the middle of the room fighting off hysterics.

Abby gasps out something like, ‘You understand each other,’ and Clarke just nods through hysterical giggles because everything is too ridiculous not to laugh.

They laugh and lean, sniggers turning to intermittent snorts until Lexa appears in the doorway with Raven close behind her. Clarke holds her breath as Abby does the same, then Lexa and Raven share a look and Clarke loses it. She cracks up again with Abby now shaking with silent laughter, both of them clapping weakly with tears streaming down their cheeks.

‘Are they unwell?’ Lexa asks in all seriousness.

Raven looks unimpressed. ‘More like high.’

Later, Raven refuses to believe that they were sober no matter how they explain the joke.

//

Lexa leads Clarke away so they can train, two swords tucked under her arm. Octavia and Lincoln follow them back to the same sunset spot from two days ago. Raven brings Abby, makes her sit and watch the dance, Lexa sees a new understanding in the way Abby watches them, in the way she sees her daughter. Clarke doesn’t acknowledge it, but Lexa knows that she is glad.

They take turns counting through their steps and Lincoln catches on to the dance as quickly as Octavia. Raven and Abby talk while they watch, teasing when O or Lincoln falls out of step. Octavia glares, Raven blows her a kiss and Lexa can only smile when Clarke’s laugh is so bright and surprising that they all turn to look at her.

After a while, Abby leaves to get some more work done and the dance turns into sparring. Clarke and Lexa drop their swords to dance in circles with such poor attempts made to strike one another that Raven tells them to stop flirting and make out already. She’s summarily ignored and accepts Octavia's lesson on how to throw a punch, with Lincoln playing their ever-calm test figure.

When darkness puts a stop to their play, they linger outside watching the stars. Through the twighlight darkness before Ark-light catches up to them, Octavia asks if she and Lincoln can come to Polis as well. Waiting for the answer, Raven looks almost as nervous as she had when she asked for herself.

Clarke looks to Lexa who answers for them both. ‘Of course, you are all welcome.’

Octavia grins and Lincoln looks less solemn when he nods. Octavia tilts onto tiptoes to kiss lincoln’s cheek then pulls a hesitant Raven into their space so all three of them can hold each other close.

As the hug disintegrates into tickling laughter, Clarke sits on the ground to press her fingers through the soft blades of grass. She has wondered at all the different types of grass before and now she tugs the longest blades from their brothers to understand these ones better.

Lexa sits down and watches in the growing artificial glow from the Ark as Clarke splits the blades into thin strands and twists them together. She leans her chin on Clarke's shoulder, wraps both arms around her middle, and Clarke leans back into her feeling warm. Safe. She knows the others will see them, but she finds she doesn't mind.

Dense silver threads pull loose from an embroidered flag on the sleeve of her old Ark jacket and Clarke twists them through the grass as well. Shifting restlessly behind her Lexa sighs, bored but caring too little about anything except Clarke, to move. She gnaws a little on Clarke's shoulder, the gentle pressure of her teeth almost as damaging to Clarke’s focus as Lexa’s fingers playing through her hair.

Nuzzling against Clarke's ear Lexa whispers, 'You really are an artist.' The humor in her voice isn't missed, but Clarke still shivers for the lips at her ear.

Persisting, Clarke fiddles with the threaded silver ends of her weaving until she holds a small grass and thread woven ring in the palm of her hand. It's not quite the star-etched steel she had imagined, but Clarke likes it all the same.

'Hold out your hand,' she says.

Lexa moves herself so she's facing her more fully and holds out her right hand. Clarke pushes that hand down to lift up her left.

When Clarke first put on Lexa's cuff, Lexa had said nothing, so Clarke doesn't say anything either. She pushes the grass ring over Lexa's second to last finger thinking, _With this ring_.

The moment is only broken by Lincoln cheering on Octavia as she runs past with Raven on her back. They don't notice the way Lexa twists her hand into the light to examine the delicate weave of green and silver. Lexa knows it's silly to think such a scrap of a thing is important, but somehow she still feels that Clarke's gift is precious. Like Clarke has given over a piece of herself.

Lexa twists the delicate ring around with the edge of her thumb, she sighs, and falls onto her back to rest her head in Clarke's lap. The smile that shines down at her makes Lexa's stomach flip.

Clarke pokes her cheek, Lexa tries to bite her finger, but otherwise can't be bothered moving. Clarke can see her apathy as she pokes her again and laughs. 'The Mighty Heda,' she mocks in a deep voice. 'Uniter of Twelve Clans: Queer teen disaster.'

Lexa tries to swat at her thigh but Clarke just links their fingers together instead. ‘Tomorrow will be interesting, won't it,' she sighs

Lexa closes her eyes and rests her cheek against their joined hands. ‘Tomorrow always is.’


	10. I am strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's in loooove...

Nightmares find Clarke before sunrise.

 

Lexa wakes to shoulders shaking with silent dry sobs. She tries to ask what’s wrong but receives no response. She stifles a sad sigh because she has seen this before, has felt it herself more than once – often enough to learn how to hide it. To appear as one thing while her mind betrays her as something else.

Clarke has no training in such a discipline. Another time Lexa will try to share what she knows. For now, she pulls Clarke in tight against her, running one hand over Clarke's hair while the other is occupied with thumbing over the grass ring on her second to last finger. She’ll hold Clarke for as long as she’s needed.

Lexa starts humming and Clarke stirs in her arms.

"Braid my hair?" her voice is flat and gravelly and she sits up, hugging her knees.

When Lexa's fingers brush her arm to lift her hair, Clarke flinches. Lexa frowns but quashes the hurt, knowing there's nothing personal in the reaction. Costia had soothed her through much worse darknesses. Who is she to not offer Clarke the same and more when needed. She threads her fingers through Clarke's hair and continues to hum, Clarke seeming almost to be humming along.

Lexa finishes another braid and lets it fall. "Would you like to...?" She wants to say _play_ , thinks that's the appropriate way to ask about the hand clapping game which accompanies the tune she’s humming.

Clarke hugs her knees tighter and Lexa separates another swatch of hair to braid. Maybe later.

 

At dawn, Lexa kisses Clarke's shoulder and promises to be back soon, that she's not going far. She needs to alert the Sky people and Indra both to the need for one more day of rest.

When she finds her, Raven understands Clarke’s state of mind with little explanation. She understands so readily that Lexa has to ask how.

Raven shrugs. 'Abby is... Had...' She trails off uncomfortably.

'You don't need to explain.' She says.

Raven looks relieved.

"And… You?"

Raven shrugs a yes and then nods down the hall. 'I'll let the others know. We’ll head out tomorrow?'

Lexa hesitates and Raven understands.

'Cool. Keep it loose.'

'Thank you, Raven of the sky people.'

Lexa turns and makes it almost to the corner before Raven calls after her.

'It's good,’ she says. 'That Clarke has you.'

She looks back to see Raven’s worried frown and understands. Lexa may not be the best for Clarke, but Raven knows, Lexa is what she needs.

Rounding the corner, Lexa almost bumps into someone she recognizes from the kitchen. They pass her by with a brusque nod that makes Lexa feel oddly pleased. Like there was acceptance in such a dismissal, a familiarity.

In the past few days, Lexa has come to recognize many of the Skai Kru. Enough that she now realises how few of them there really are. _Unsustainable_ , a voice whispers in her mind; that cool calm thought pattern which she once thought of as her Heda spirit until the voice started to sound like Anya's.

In truth, she likes the Skai Kru idea of instinct. Instinct tells her, now with Indra's voice, that the Skai Kru population cannot sustain itself to the next generation. She will bring it up with Clarke once she comes back to herself.

Clarke is still distant when Lexa returns, but she accepts the tray of food automatically. Lexa sits beside her and chews through her own breakfast. Clarke mimics her, though with so little appetite there is plenty left over. When Clarke turns away, Lexa eats some of the leftover eggs and pushes the rest onto the desk without a fuss.

Sitting back down, she holds out an arm and Clarke gladly falls against her chest, not yet ready to face the day, but more present than before. Lexa settles in, picks up her book and tightens the hold on Clarke's shoulders.

'I'm here if you need anything.'

//

At some point Clarke registers the tune Lexa has been humming. A bright warm memory brings up a smile and she kisses Lexa's cheek.

'Good afternoon, Clarke.' Lexa's smooth voice is light, and charming as if she hasn't spent the day caught under Clarke's weight. As if she doesn't mind.

'I'm sorry,' Clarke says pushing back and rubbing her cheeks. She could spend the rest of her life making up for some of her actions these past weeks. She half expects Lexa to brush off the apology, but instead she looks serious.

'Do you feel that forgiveness is required?'

Clarke hopes Lexa can read the truth in her eyes, knows that she can see so much, but she tries with words anyway.

‘I feel that I have done a lot that I need to apologise for.’ She frowns. Too formal. She takes Lexa’s hand in hers and Lexa twines their fingers together.

‘I fear I may disagree,’ Lexa says.

‘I know, but.’ she thinks back to the clearing. ‘I… I used you.’

Lexa lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mind?’ She sighs. ‘I chose to be there. I get little enough opportunity to follow my heart. Our newfound peace let me stay. You let me stay. That's what I wanted, regardless of the circumstances.’ Clarke looks into her eyes and reads the truth there.

‘Doesn’t make what I did any less shitty,’ she grumbles.

‘Then I forgive you and your… shitty actions. Next?’ Her voice is flippant, the smile on her lips quick.

‘Can I kiss you?’

‘I thought this was a chance to list all your faults. Do we have time for—’

Clarke cuts her off with a kiss because Lexa is too good sometimes. She is also a smart-ass when left to talk at length. Clarke loves that about her. Sometimes though, Clarke just needs a chance to pour her damn heart out. When she tries to pull back, Lexa chases her lips for one last kiss.

Fingers linger on the tinge of bruise still staining Lexa’s cheekbone, and Clarke pulls in a shaky breath as she leans back. Lexa’s smile immediately falls, her hand holding the back of Clarke’s.

‘I understand why.’ Lexa’s voice is soft. Too gentle.

‘Doesn’t make it okay.’ Clarke kisses the place where her fists left their mark.

Lexa doesn’t deny anything.

‘You deserve better. I won’t ever hurt you like this again.’

‘You can’t promise that.’ Lexa’s words aren’t accusing, just a statement of fact. ‘No more than I could promise to never again hurt you the same way that I have.’

Clarke nods. ‘I’m still so so sorry. I can’t make up for what I’ve done, but I’ll try.’ She'll spend the rest of her life trying if she has to. Swallowing, Clarke tries to think of something, some way to make this right. ‘If I ever do anything like that again, I want you to walk away while Indra beats the shit out of me, okay.’

They share a wry smile because Indra would happily do just that for Lexa.

Forgiveness and love shines in Lexa's eyes and Clarke almost feels safe again.

‘I forgive you,' Lexa says.

'Thank you.'

Suddenly exhausted, Clarke's sure she’s used up her quota of words for a month at least. She kisses another dozen _thankyou’s_ into Lexa’s lips and they’re laughing by the last.

Clarke can't explain how only this morning she had felt so frightened and alone, like nothing would ever be right again. She can't explain how Lexa's presence had helped her find the way back to warmth and light. The flighty feeling is still there on the edges of her awareness. And the idea of leaving this room still terrifies her, but now she can breathe again.

Lexa’s eyes follow her gaze to the door, she stands and places the chair under the handle. _Is this okay,_ she asks with a glance and Clarke nods with another silent thank you, pulling her legs up crossed in front of her on the bed.

When Lexa sits back down mimicking the cross-legged posture, she lifts up her hands between them. _Now?_ Lexa's calm smile asks. Clarke thought she had pushed Lexa into playing games with her, but Lexa's eyes shine as if she would like nothing more than to master a silly children's rhyme with her.

A glint of silver draws her eye the second to last finger on Lexa's left hand and she feels a nervous tingle in her own fingertips. Clarke doesn't question the feeling; she lifts her hands to match Lexa's, and adds words for _Down Down Baby_ where before there had only been a tune.

 

'You have a nice voice,' Lexa says after a while. She looks as breathless as Clarke feels, her cheeks pinking. 'But this song is silly.' She pauses, mouthing the words again. 'And possibly quite rude.'

Clarke can't help but laugh, and she gives Lexa a quick kiss, because she wants to. 'There's worse, I promise.'

'Teach me?' She’s sincere enough to make Clarke's chest feel over-full, and she finds a laugh – small and weak, but there – bubble up.

'Of course,’ she says and they spend most of the afternoon clapping and singing nonsense until their bellies grumble for dinner.

 

Lexa collects food for them both and leads her out into warm night air for a picnic under the stars. Clarke breathes in deep, starlight and spring breezes washing away the worst of her sadness.

At Lexa's question, Clarke tries to explain the etymology of the word picnic but gives up when she realises that Lexa is staring at her lips and definitely not listening. She brushes away a poor attempt at an apology and kisses Lexa full and breathless. Only the stars are there to see how young and weightless they make each other feel.

//

The next morning they have everything they need and are ready to leave at first light.

 

The grass has fallen away from Lexa's ring leaving only the silvery thread wrapped around her finger; since Clarke put it there, Lexa has no plans for removing it.  

Before they leave their room to meet the others Lexa presses a kiss to Clarke’s cheek and squeezes her hand. _Take all the time you need,_ she thinks with one last kiss.

Outside the grey sky is gaining color with every second, sun-glow filling the horizon. Birds herald the day and Lexa can find no warning in the sound.

Raven meets them at the gate, her face determined as she says goodbye to those she leaves behind. Her silly mechanic man with the pretty eyes hugs her tight before giving her a final handshake and kiss to her forehead. A handful of other young crew hug her goodbye after he dashes back inside.

Their party has grown since Raven first made her request to join them. Octavia and Lincoln were followed by Monroe, Bellamy and Monty. Harper and Miller say goodbye for now but mean to follow them in a few months time. Harper hugs Clarke then meets Lexa’s eye and offers her hand.

‘May we meet again,’ Harper says as all the Skai Kru have.

They clasp arms and Lexa nods saying she hopes to see Harper again soon. Clarke gives her a look which Lexa ignores in favour of clasping Harper’s shoulder. She’s sure Harper will make as fine a warrior as Octavia some day, with the right encouragement.

Abby is there too, braving the dawn chill, her eyes shimmering with tears when she holds her daughter close. Raven hangs back from them holding her own arm and shuffling her boots in the dust. Abby meets Raven’s eyes over Clarke’s shoulder, gives her daughter a final squeeze and approaches Raven with a sad smile.

They embrace with strong familiar hands and Raven’s eyes shine as bright as Abby’s when she receives a kiss to the cheek. Clarke turns to Lexa for a hug and she's wrapped up gladly.

Abby and Raven both are near to crying, though they’re smiling too as they let their arms fall, talking, nodding and agreeing. They laugh, Raven gathers her things and the two don’t stop touching until all the assembled Skai Kru have said their goodbyes and the gate is opened. When Abby releases Raven for the last time, she pulls Clarke back in for another hug. She gives Lexa her first real smile, and then turns on her heel to pace back into the Ark's darkness.

Raven and Clarke both watch her go until Octavia wraps her arms around Raven’s middle and kisses her cheek. Lexa takes Clarke’s hand into her own, sweeps her thumb over Clarke’s wrist and meets her eyes. _You will meet again._

Together they take their first steps toward Polis.

 

Lexa guides them to where Indra waits, glad that she has decided to join them, leaving others to watch over TonDC. Their party is strong and they move quickly. Monty is slowest of them all but he is also determined to keep up without complaint. Despite her injuries, Raven proves herself both determined and capable within so short a time that Indra stops glaring at her in favour of glaring at Monty by mid-morning.

After a few miles, Octavia is walking next to Raven, close enough that their arms brush, and she asks the question Lexa has been thinking.

‘Not that I’m not thrilled, but how in hell and dark matter are you doing that.’ She indicates Raven’s whole lower half as representing her ability to keep pace with them. ‘And for that matter how could you not tell me you were working on something?’

Raven can’t hide her grin as she easily steps over a fallen branch. She gestures to the pieces of machinery strapped to her knee and threading almost all the way to her hip.

‘I wasn’t sure it would work. I mean I’m pretty amazing, but this is cutting edge even for me.’ She falls silent again as the way becomes steep and they all must watch their step.

They’re travelling on foot with their packs burdening two horses instead of themselves. Even still, the warm spring sun saps their energy quickly. At the top of the hill Lexa calls for a break and they stop to relax.

Raven immediately starts to adjust the straps and mechanisms wrapped around her knee.

‘You were cutting edges?’ Lexa prompts, curious about Raven’s recovery.

‘Well, I was fooling around with Abby—‘ Clarke interrupts with a gagging noise and Raven reaches over to punch her arm. ‘Not what I was gonna say, Princess. I was just helping repair some machines for the clinic and we got to talking about prosthetics.’ She frowns, and Octavia rubs her shoulders. ‘Yeah yeah, I’m a hobbling Greek tragedy.’ She shrugs and looks around the group as if sizing them up. ‘But then Monty got involved, we made some magic happen. And now I’m a cyborg.’

Raven is talking directly to her so Lexa has to admit she doesn’t know what that means as Monty huffs a laugh. Raven looks around the circle of her friends.

‘You’re not allowed to freak out, okay?’ Raven looks specifically at Kane who meets her gaze passively. Raven sighs, stands and lifts her hair off the back of her neck. They all lean in to see; at the base of her skull is a metal plate, wires and lights forming coloured patterns within a fresh clear resin.

No one says anything and Raven lets her hair fall, tucking it behind her ears. ‘We didn’t get a chance to make it look pretty, but it works.’

She lifts her damaged limb and flexes the knee to prove her point. The movement aided by whirring and spinning mechanisms in the brace are jerky but comparable to a working leg all the same.

Raven’s brow is creased with the effort. ‘It feels weird and can go a bit haywire but this is just a prototype.’

She busies herself with tightening the buckles and straps around her thigh while the Skai Kru stare at her. Lexa finds she is the least shocked of present company excluding Monty. She has seen so much bewildering Skai Kru technology that this is just another piece. However, it seems that even for the Skai Kru Raven’s machine is incredible.

After a beat, Octavia laughs and Raven scowls.

Octavia just shakes her head. ‘Smart girls are so hot.’

Clarke laughs, amazed that these are her friends. Only taken aback for a moment, Raven grins and lifts up her palm between them. Octavia meets her in a cracking high five and they both click their fingers. Lexa looks at Clarke for an explanation and her expression is so genuinely curious that Clarke has to fight back an urge to kiss her.

Reading her correctly, Lexa ducks her chin and turns away to hide a smile.

‘We should go’ Lexa says eventually and Indra’s voice calls out her agreement across the minimum safe distance she has established between herself and the noisy Sky People.  

Lexa lets her hand brush against Clarke’s as they stand and if Clarke stumbles to her feet then she can only hope no one else notices.

//

Their journey is a calm one, calm enough that Clarke has all the time in the world to watch Lexa. As the day wears on she becomes tense and wary; they stop often and for periods longer than necessary until Indra is annoyed enough with her to show it. After another long break, Clarke holds her back with a question, but Lexa just shrugs and squeezes her hand. _Later._

The frequent stops give Raven the time to recalibrate the mechanisms on her brace; Octavia still hovers, worried by her side and as the sun dips lower to the horizon, Lexa announces they’ll make camp. Clarke gathers up supplies to light the fire while Lexa, Monroe, Lincoln and Indra all leave to hunt.

As soon as a blanket can be laid out for her, Raven lies down by Clarke’s new fire pit, rubbing at her temples. Monty takes the brace away to work on the mechanism and Octavia kneels to cradle Raven’s head in her lap.  Shushing her gently, Octavia guides Raven’s hands away to take over massaging her scalp gently

‘You’re pushing yourself too hard.’ Octavia’s voice is soft and low.

Clarke knows this isn’t a moment meant for her to see. Monty and Kane have made themselves busy a good distance away, but Clarke has arranged her kindling and has nothing else to do except stare at the smoking grass – her friends on the other side – until the fire catches.

Raven’s voice reveals her pain. ‘This is a great field test, O. And I’ve had worse.’ Her voice shakes and she sighs when Octavia threads light fingers through her hair.

‘Is this okay?’ Octavia asks. ‘I’m not going to knock any wires and fry your brain right?’

Raven opens her eyes and pats the back of Octavia’s hand. ‘No. You’re perfect.’

Both their faces darken with colour, and then Indra appears through the trees and demands Octavia join her patrol.

‘Sha, Indra.’ Octavia answers immediately but risks her mentor’s ire to lean down, kiss Raven’s forehead and tuck a blanket in under her head.  ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she promises in a whisper.

‘Octavia, now!’

Octavia jumps to her feet and leaps around the fire to follow, silent as a shadow into the gathering darkness.

Raven sighs again as Clarke sets a few larger sticks into her growing fire. ‘Don’t say a word, Princess.’

‘Wasn’t going to,’ Clarke gives her the truth. ‘You okay?’

Raven rubs at her temples again. ‘I will be.’

Lincoln is the first to return with a rabbit already cleaned and spitted on a green branch. Clarke holds out both hands and he looks happy with her as she takes the animal to cook.

By the time Clarke has set the rabbit over the flames Lincoln has cleaned his hands and taken Octavia’s place at Raven’s side. He leaves the blanket pillowed under her head but threads soothing fingers back through her hair. Raven startles awake but calms when she sees Lincoln’s smile. His low voice is easier to ignore now that the fire is well alight but she still hears Raven’s sincere, ‘Thank you,’ for whatever it is they share.

Soon after, the others return, Monroe with a surprising two fat birds and root vegetables to match Lexa’s river rat, rabbit and wild herbs, and Lexa shocks everyone except Clarke by preparing a stew. With more food than their group could consume, they feast, enjoy the stars and each other’s company, and Indra tells stories of war with surprising skill for narrative.

Clarke leans into Lexa’s side, warm and content. A feeling, warm and alive settles deep in her belly.

//

No one bothers to move from the fireside as they fall asleep. Lexa watches each one of them drift into dreams and resists the weight of her own exhaustion for as long as she can. 

She’s glad that Clarke is asleep in her arms when nightmares pull her under.

 

At first light, Lexa wakes with Clarke warm in her arms, the sky stretched out above them. She’s wondering why she and Clarke have slept outside instead of in their stony shelter when she registers the sound of Lincoln snoring. Kane too is adding to the growls and suddenly she doesn’t know how she had been asleep at all.

She remembers the nightmares that had stirred her from sleep. Anya, the city, her Queen, the expectations of a whole nation riding upon her back. She’s left for too long and wandered too far. That’s what her dreams are telling her, it’s what they always tell her whenever she makes the journey home.

Now Clarke will be with her. Heda Lexa with Clarke the leader of the Sky People and Destroyer of Mountains will ride into Polis, through her front gates as tradition dictates. And that is terrifying.

Cradled in her arms, Clarke is breathing heavy and deep. Lexa pushes away the edges of her nightmares and wishes idly that their lives could be simple. She longs to spend long days in this peace, to teach Clarke her language and have no fears for tomorrow. She indulges in sweeping blonde hair from her cheeks and warmth soaks her fingertips.

There's no other place she would rather be, but the sun has risen and though she’s planned a delay in their journey, a lazy morning is not a part of that.

Moving to extricate herself, Lexa finds she is too tangled with Clarke, her Prisa’s hands still caught up in her shirt. She kisses Clarke’s forehead and her cheek, loosening her hold.

‘You are safe,’ she murmurs and Clarke rolls into the warm space she leaves behind.

A few yards from the fire, Indra sits on a fallen tree, her back to the circle of sleeping Skai Kru to keep watch.

She looks up as Lexa joins her. ‘Will you continue this in Polis?’  

Glancing back at the sleeping sky people, Indra’s expression is worried.

//

Clarke is disappointed to wake up alone. The blankets next to her are cold without Lexa, but she can hear her voice along with Indra’s a short distance away. The words are too quick to hold any meaning for her but she can hear warm emotion in both their voices.

‘Sha, Lexa.’ Indra says and it’s strange to hear Lexa’s name in her deep honeyed tones.

Clarke wishes she understood more. 

//

They start moving again after a quick breakfast and the morning progresses as it had the day before except now Lexa is openly irritable, jumpy and distant. After one tense exchange that leaves Clarke with a worried frown, Octavia and Raven share a look then move to walk either side of her. Clarke waits for an apologetic glance from Lexa that doesn’t come.

They’ve walked for a long while without stopping and now Indra is as tense as Lexa, Octavia too watches the trees more closely and then Clarke can sense it too. The woods are quiet, the hum of life is discordant somehow, and the wild tune she usually hums along to has lost its melody.

‘What is it?’ Raven asks in a whisper. Octavia shakes her head and Indra raises one hand, stopping them all with an urgent gesture. 

Clarke looks for Lexa whose eyes find hers. _Be careful._

There’s a long, low whistle that Clarke knows immediately is not made by any bird. The cracking of branches and crushing undergrowth joins the sound and then they’re surrounded. Fifteen or more men and women point swords, hammers and all other tools for cutting and bludgeoning at them. They look like the people of TonDC but meaner, some of their outerwear resembling in a poor way the armour of Lexa’s warriors – metal, rubber and bone decorating the leather.

Octavia, Indra, Lexa and Lincoln have drawn their swords, Raven, Monroe, and Bellamy have their guns loaded and pointed into the circle of bandits, Kane has his shock baton charged and ready at his side. Clarke can only regret her own weapons still tucked away in a saddlebag out of reach.

‘Drop your weapons and no one will get hurt.’ The smallest man in the group steps forward, his voice as sickly sweet as his smile.

Indra laughs. ‘Drop your weapons and we may spare your lives.’ Her voice holds enough authority for the man to hesitate, to look at her weapon, at the scars on all their faces.

Monroe trains her heavy automatic rifle on him and his eyes widen, gaze flicking from her to Bellamy, Raven and Kane, all with their own Skai weapons. Lexa moves to stand closer to Clarke who does the same and they end up shoulder to shoulder, Clarke all too aware of her empty hands. The circle of men surrounding them shift nervously. They are going to attack anyway.

‘Won,’ Lexa murmurs low enough for just Clarke to hear. Clarke drops her posture into first position. She does have a weapon after all. ‘Tu,’ Lexa counts as the bandits’ leader asks them one more time to give up their weapons.

Indra laughs, Lexa counts ‘Thri,’ and the first strike falls.

Octavia dodges a swinging sledgehammer and sweeps the bandit’s calves with her sword. He falls as Lincoln looses an arrow into the leader’s thigh and Bellamy shoots another man to the ground. Indra has already dispatched two men, but there are more appearing. Clarke loses track of anyone else as Lexa engages a hulking – sword and hammer carrying – giant.

Clarke yelps and just manages to duck a sword swinging for her neck. She sweeps her attacker's feet out from under him and kicks his sword out of reach. He's back on his feet too quick for Clarke to kick the sense from his head and he catches her in the chest with a bear-sized paw. She sees sky before her back hits the ground, all wind knocked from her chest. She kicks at his knees without any strength and he reaches down for her.

Before she can scream a sword bursts through the center of his chest and he lets out a gurgling wail instead.

Lexa is lost in a haze of anger as the beast who attacked Clarke drops to his knees, his blood draining down her sword to stain her hands. He knocked Clarke down and now Lexa takes his life for the presumption that he could ever touch her.

Clarke’s eyes are wild, she’s scared but alert and Lexa sees the flash of anger which is warning enough for her to jab an elbow into the man sneaking up behind her. He grunts doubling over and she uses those seconds to push the dead man off her sword then spin to knock the hilt into the coward's face. His nose shatters in a spray of blood, and she batters the hard edge of his temple.

He drops like a stone, but another takes his place, eager to die. Lexa kicks his sword into the dirt with her heel, grabs the front of his shirt to pull him in and slams her forehead into his face. There’s a satisfying crunch and he crumples at her feet.

She whirls and finds Clarke fending off a tall man with a long beard. She has a cut on her cheek but has disarmed him already and as Lexa watches, heart in her throat, Clarke grabs his beard and yanks him off balance.  She smashes her knee into his nose then her elbow into the back of his head. She’s wild and beautiful and when she looks up and meets Lexa’s eyes there is a fire inside them that Lexa is ready to burn for.

Clarke meets Lexa’s gaze for a long aching moment before they’re both pulled away by frantic attacks. Still without a weapon, she pulls a man off Monroe with both hands on his shoulders, he fights back, but she ducks and twists, slams her fist into his jaw hard enough to bruise her knuckles again. She knows they’ll heal and she swings again to knock him out.

Lexa has met another opponent, equal in size and almost equal in skill. They’re engaged in a close battle of clashing swords, the ringing of metal on metal louder than any other in Clarke’s ears.

Lexa’s eyes are steel as she dances out of his reach, he is slowing and she plays in circles around him to drag his energy lower. She is going to win and her grim sneer is turning into a smile. Each of the others get their last opponent on the ground. Lincoln raises his bow to point at Lexa’s man, but Indra tells him no.

Lexa doesn’t take her eyes off the swordsman, she just grins, enjoying her game. 

Clarke would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy watching her; she's  in awe. She had known that Lexa handled her with care when they sparred. She knew Lexa was patient, but she had failed to grasp just how deadly her gentle teacher was. Fierce and brutal, even as she holds back from killing, Lexa is a warrior beyond anything Clarke could have imagined.

A final, almost lazy swing of her sword hilt into his temple drops the man without a sound. Clarke could have missed the final blow if she hadn't been watching so closely.

Lexa checks his pulse, takes a steadying breath and then turns. Her eyes find Clarke’s unerringly and she checks her over from crown to toe. She makes sure that Clarke is alright then turns to help tie up her man with the others.

Her staring is interrupted by Kane’s amused voice. 'You look surprised.'

Clarke nods because yes surprise is one of the many powerful emotions coursing through her body right now.

'You didn't  think her title was the only reason they followed her did you? She is an incredible warrior.' Kane's words make sense and Clarke is sure she knew this before now.

But, 'She is so gentle.' The words trip over her tongue before she can stop them. She hasn't taken her eyes off Lexa but she does now.

Kane is looking at her with an expression so kind and fatherly that something catches in her throat. 'I am happy for you,' he says and Clarke doesn't know what to say. Kane understands and looks away. 'Some of these men will need your help. Are you ready to care for them?'

'Of course.'

//

Clarke moves through the wounded with as much grace in washing away the blood and gore of the survivors as she had in inflicting their injuries. Lexa sits back to rest. She’s meant to keep watch over the prisoners but they are all tied well and really Clarke is all she can see.

She thinks over her conversation with Indra. It's possible that neither of them are prepared for what Polis will do to them, to their relationship. But Lexa knows that nothing could take away how she feels in this moment. She watches Clarke work, heal and care for those who would have killed her and she is in awe; no matter what Clarke may be prepared to do for those she loves, she is still a healer, first and always.

//

They bind their prisoners hand to feet and tethered together so they pose no threat. Four were killed, their pires built with their own weapons; Lexa, Monroe and Octavia did the work, responsible for the killing blows.

As the pyre is lit, Monroe says the words 'Yu gonplei ste odon,' and Lexa stands close, murmuring something to her that Clarke recognises as comforting though she can't hear them.

The fires take half the afternoon to burn down and there's only a few hours of daylight left. Indra stands aside with Lexa, and Clarke pretends to watch Raven adjusting her brace. Indra is speaking in the same warm tones Clarke overheard that morning. They are speaking as friends, not warriors, and Clarke can’t help but feel curious.

Octavia must be listening, but she doesn't explain and Clarke doesn't ask.

 

O ctavia has the prisoners on their feet before Indra comes for them. Clarke checks over their bandages and inspects the pupil response and coordination of those that were knocked unconscious. They will need a slow walking pace, but will otherwise be fine.

She says as much to Lexa but Indra is the one to reply. 'I will not push them beyond their limits.'

Everyone gathers themselves to move and Clarke does the same until Lexa holds her back, both their things collected from the horses in her arms. 'I would like to go somewhere before we head for Polis.'

Clarke looks between Lexa and the others, confused.

Lexa immediately amends her words. 'If you would like to stay with your friends, we can do so. But there is something I would like to show you.' She seems to hesitate in touching Clarke. Like she doesn't want to taint her with the fresh blood just now washed from her hands.

Clarke glances at her friends, alive and smiling and turning away from them. She ignores Lexa’s hesitance, leans in close enough to touch and when Lexa responds in kind she grabs a fistful of her collar and pulls Lexa into a steady, confirming kiss.

'I would love to.' She grins her reply and Lexa smiles her thanks.

//

When the others have disappeared into the trees Lexa guides Clarke away.  They're only a few hours from Polis now and Lexa knows these woods well. As they walk, she names the sky and the sun, the trees and the wind. Trigeda and english, and Clarke repeats after her. She shares children’s rhymes she grew up with and explains their meanings.

They're wandering. Clarke knows and doesn’t mind, or ask her where they are going.

As they make camp for the night, Lexa continues their lesson by firelight.

‘Ain swis,' Lexa says, withdrawing her knife. 'My knife.'

‘Ain swis,’ Clarke repeats.

‘Yun swis,’ Lexa says and gives her the knife. 'Your knife.'

Clarke shakes her head with a quirk to her lips. ‘Ain swis,’ she repeats and ducks under Lexa’s arm to loosen the buckle on the blade’s sheath.

‘Chit yu gaf—’

She connects the sheath to her own waist and slips the knife home there. ‘Ain swis,’ Clarke repeats and holds her hand up for approval.

Lexa glares at her. ‘That’s my favorite knife, Clarke.’ Brown leather handle and tapered blade. She was cradling that knife when she and Clarke first met.

‘ _Was_ your favorite knife,’ Clarke corrects as if she was giving the lessons.

Lexa sighs. ‘Will you return it?’ It really is her favorite.

‘You’ll just have to keep me around. I can let you borrow it.’

Lexa can feel her smile turning indulgent.

Knowing she’s won, Clarke draws Lexa in and presses her down beside their fire, both of them losing track of time until the sun has disappeared and the stars are bright above them.

‘Ain klaka,’ Clarke says the word from an earlier lesson with a hand sneaking up under Lexa’s shirt to her bare ribs, her lips pressed teasingly to Lexa's lips. ‘Ain teisa,’ she adds before stroking her tongue past Lexa’s teeth. ‘Ain Leksa,’ she sighs with a naked thigh finally pressing down between Lexa’s.

‘Ain kwelness,’ Lexa gasps, wishing her shirt were as absent as their pants.

Clarke continues to tease, hands drifting up to grasp and luxuriate over Lexa’s breasts, lips teasing her neck. She has Lexa writhing, grasping at her shoulders and then she suddenly stops all movement, drawing a whine from Lexa’s throat.

‘Chit?’ Clarke prompts. 'Say it again,' she repeats in english.

Lexa tries to focus her pleasure soaked mind. Clarke had called Lexa hers. She wants Lexa to say the same, or else she'll stop touching her.

‘Ain Prisa, Clarke,’ Lexa rushes out, desperate for Clarke to keep moving. ‘Ain Heda, Skai Prisa,’ she says only partially teasing.

Clarke chuckles. ‘Don’t overdo it.’ She lets her tongue trace over the shell of Lexa’s ear. ‘But that’s better,’ she laughs and Lexa forgets all about her knife.

//

The next day Lexa pulls Clarke to every waterhole, cliff-high view and beautiful flowered meadow she knows of; Clark grins and throws her arms around Lexa at every new place. Lexa accepts the embrace and the teasing touches that go with them, but she breaks away every time, knowing the best is still to come.

The trees slowly become wilder with mosses and ferns as they walk, water sounds mixing with the whip of rainbird song. Clarke’s grin is already so bright that Lexa can't help but watch as they round the last corner and the beauty of Lexa’s favorite place is reflected in Clarke's eyes.

A deep cave filled with a blue-green pool is surrounded by twisting figs, climbing vines and soft ferns. Afternoon light and water streams through an opening worn into the hard rock ceiling. The creek responsible for the erosion flows through and over the arch of natural rock which forms the cave mouth, water glittering against shadows.

Lexa wants to scramble to the water’s edge and is planning a route down when Clarke steals what balance she has left. Her grinning Skai Prisa grabs the back of Lexa’s neck for a deep, lingering kiss.

When she finally pulls back, Lexa chasing the taste of her lips, Clarke tips her chin to look up through her lashes.

‘Mochof.’ She says the words like Lexa’s people do because Lexa is the one that taught them to her.

Lexa tells her she’s welcome and then drags Clarke laughing to the water’s edge.

They splash and play like children, but here in this place with Clarke, Lexa feels ageless.

Before the sun disappears Lexa gathers materials for a fire that she doesn't light just yet. Clarke doesn’t question why, she just sits close beside her until the sky becomes a shimmering blanket of stars. The night is cool, but Lexa is warm and Clarke is happy to wait.

The answer comes with two little green lights dancing through the dark. Clarke gasps and points into the cave.

Lexa’s grin is lit by the rising moon as she stands and pulls Clarke with her along the wide stony path around the cave edge. Lexa keeps a hold of her hand, bodies close until they are deep enough that the roof slopes down and they would have to duck to go any further.

The little green glow of two fireflies becomes four then ten and then dozens until she loses count and Clarke squeezes Lexa’s fingers and kisses her cheek.

‘Hod op.’ Lexa gestures for her to wait.

With fireflies dancing all around them, Lexa’s outline becomes clearer, colour returns to her eyes and then the whole cave is alight. Fireflies settle along the walls beside other glowing insects and their light reflects and refracts across the green of the pool beside them.

Keeping a hold of one hand, Lexa pushes Clarke's body away from her. Confused, she waits until Lexa squares up her feet and then settles her free hand on Clarke's waist.  

Lexa would like to dance.

Clarke doesn’t know how to dance, but she firms her grip on Lexa's hand anyway and rests the other one over Lexa's shoulder as she’s meant to.

From the first stumbling steps, she discovers that Lexa doesn't know how to dance either.

‘Is this how your people normally do this?’ she’s curious enough to ask.

Their only music is the melodic murmur of the forest, but Clarke doesn’t mind and she hums her own tune feeling light, swaying in Lexa’s arms.

Lexa smiles allowing the distance between their bodies to close a little. They keep swaying and turning slowly on the spot. ‘Sometimes.’ She shrugs with a mischievous smile. ‘When the night is still young and elders are watching.’

‘And if there’s nobody to supervise?’

The Commander falls shy then and the colour in her cheeks is better than any words she might have said. Their bodies drift close enough that Clarke can let her head fall to Lexa’s shoulder, the uneven ground and Lexa’s boots making her that much taller. Lexa’s hand drifts around Clarke’s waist, and up to her shoulder blades. Every touch is warm and so gentle.

Pulling back to resettle, Clarke finds herself tucked into the circle of Lexa’s arms, fingers twisting the front of her shirt. Her perfectly sweet dance partner doesn’t break her touch for a moment, soft hands drifting, memorising every inch of her back.

No matter where they’ve come from or what lays ahead of them, Clarke feels like this is home.

The light loses its intensity as they both start to shiver. Lexa pulls them back to the unlit campfire, wraps Clarke’s shoulders in a blanket and strikes flint to the tinder. The fire is bright and hot within minutes and she settles into the blanket as well, knees tucked in next to Clarke's to share the warmth of her thighs.

‘Mochof,’ Clarke says again and with a contented sigh falls into Lexa’s side, head resting on her shoulder. ‘Today was perfect.’

‘Except for the ambush.’

Clarke makes a sound which suggests she’d forgotten. She picks up Lexa’s hand and kisses her knuckles above the silver thread she tied there. ‘I forget things like that when I’m with you. The bad things.’

Lexa pulls Clarke’s hands from her lap to kiss each of her knuckles one at a time. They’re bruised from the fighting but only lightly. She’s learning and Lexa feels proud.

‘What were you saying to Indra yesterday?’ Clarke sounds unsure if she should voice her question, but Lexa doesn’t mind.

She hums, thumbing the silver thread on her finger around in circles.

‘I asked her if I could be alone with you. She agreed in the morning but with those people attacking us… Indra does not like spending time with your sky people as it is,’ Lexa explains. ‘But she insisted on taking the task for me anyway.’

‘Why?’ There is more to her question than one word would suggest.

Lexa answers in the simplest way she can. ‘She cares for me, and I for her.’

Clarke nods, leaving Lexa room to gather her thoughts. With a soft smiling glance at her lips, Clarke pulls their bodies together.

Lexa leans into the touch as Clarke’s lips warm her own – as Clarke lies her down and settles on top of her. She wants so much to follow Clarke into this young and carefree moment. Feels warm and content enough to forget the reason she needed this time in the first place.

Finally, she breaks away, panting a little, forehead resting against Clarke’s.

‘I needed a chance to explain,’ she says.

_Explain?_ Clarke’s brows furrow as she leans back, gaze still flicking between Lexa’s eyes and her mouth, mischief at the corner of her lips.

Lexa nods, swallowing against the tide of arousal pushing through her, thrumming between her legs.

Despite Lexa’s undoubtedly cloudy gaze, Clarke’s expression lights with understanding. She could see how worried Lexa had been today, how her fears had weighed on her.

‘I can’t be this way with you in Polis.’ With the way they are tangled together, Lexa doesn’t need to elaborate. ‘My people can't know me the way that you do.’

Clarke sighs with relief and looks like she wants to just kiss Lexa, to help her forget whatever fears have been weighing on her. 

'That’s okay.’  She leans in again, but Lexa pulls away from her lips. 

'I won’t be okay though. I will be – I will be cold with you.’

Clarke lets her hips fall to one side relieving some of the pressure that had been clouding Lexa’s judgement.

She’s glad; she needs Clarke to understand her. Theirs is not just a bond of loyalty or shared experience. She knows now with startling clarity that Clarke is her everything.

Lexa is full with the words that have been too present these last few days to take her by surprise.

She kisses Clarke's cheek then her lips.  

_I love you_ echos through her heart and she thinks Clarke might taste the words on her tongue when they fall deeper into another kiss, when Clarke’s tongue traces past her lips.

'Clarke,' Lexa tries to recall her full attention between kisses. 'Prisa, beja. Hod op.' She loses the words she should know in English, but Clarke responds to her plea all the same. They're both breathing hard, still pressed close enough that Lexa could just tilt her chin to reconnect their lips...

'Clarke, I know that we both have our responsibilities,’ she regains control of her voice, tone serious. ‘Your people come first, as do mine.'

Impatience and frustration are clear in Clarke’s sigh. 'Are you really making speeches right now?'

Lexa frowns, affronted. 'Are you asking me to shut up?'

'Lexa,' Clarke whines her name. 'We do well with quiet. Can't we just be quiet? And naked?'

Yes, they do well with quiet. Lexa loves that about Clarke and what they have together.

They do well with naked too, however, 'I need to say this out loud.  I need to be clear because I will not be able to just show you as I have done until now. I cannot be this.' She gestures between them. ' _We_ cannot be this in Polis.'

_I know,_ lights Clarke’s expression, her soft fingers. The request to _stop talking and show me now,_ is clear as she tries to pull Lexa back in.

Lexa won't be distracted again. Not by Clarke's lips, not by her eyes, not by her wandering hands. 'Clarke. Prisa,' she says just under a shout. ‘Ai hod yu in.’

Clarke pauses, and there’s recognition in her eyes.

Lexa charges through, summoning the Commander’s nerve to continue. 'I love you.'

Her Skai Prisa, blinks. ‘Oh.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chit yu gaf = What do you want  
> Ain klaka = My Ribs  
> Ain teisa = My tongue  
> Ain kwelness = My weakness.  
> Chit? = What?


End file.
